Here To Stay
by MAYJornerd
Summary: Josh leaves Castle to do his dirty work for him. No riding off to a sunset for Castle and Beckett. Fluffy, angsty & a case that they need to solve shoved in the chapters. Give it a shot. R&R.  Previously titled: HE STAYED, THE OTHER LEFT.
1. Motorcycle boy, out

**Author's note:** This is my first time actually writing a story for everyone to read. So it's kinda nervewrecking right now. Honest reviews please. :)

Oh, and this is a oneshot deal.

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><p>"Kate, let Ryan and Esposito handle this one." Josh pleaded with her one more time, to which Beckett just refused again. She picked up her gun and attached it to her holster, her mind already set on a decision. "Look, you've done so much. Dinner's waiting. Let the boys handle it."<p>

Kate let out a tired sigh. "Josh, _no_. I will not let the boys handle it. This is my case too."

Castle suddenly ambled into the room with his signature smirk that made Beckett's breathing heighten up considerably. Josh was too busy cooking up ways to make Beckett leave work early to notice the blatant attraction that was happening in the room.

"What's going on?" Castle's playful voice made Josh look up, but only put his head down again, muttering, "Nothing you need to be concerned about."

Kate shook her head before running her hands through her hair. She was going through last minute checks in her head to make sure the whole operation went smoothly. Castle noticed the tension on her face and tried to alleviate her troubles by edging towards her dangerously close to Josh's liking.

"What's wrong, Beckett?" He asked.

She snapped out of her reverie and glanced at Castle with a small smile. "Oh, uh, I was just thinking. Have you seen Ryan and Esposito?"

Castle nodded. "Yeah, they were in the break room all dressed up. Are we going out for a raid or something?" he asked excitedly. Beckett could never get enough of that, and she hid a pleased smile. Instead she gave him straight face as she grabbed the flak jacket off her desk. "Not we, Castle. _You're_ staying here."

His face fell, but Beckett knew it wasn't for real. She would have forgotten of Josh's presence if only he hadn't sighed one more time. She couldn't deal with him right now. She just couldn't. He was pissed because she had put off dinner again, but it's not like she chose to.

She had priorities. She had her job.

"What?"

"You heard me. You're not leaving the precinct."

"Beckett, I've saved your life on numerous accounts. Give me some credit here."

She gave him a pointed look, slipping her arm into the hole of the jacket. "And exactly how many times are you going to remind me of that?

"Why can't I go this time?" Castle whined predictably. "What if you need a Chinese translator? Or back-up? I can be your back-up. I'm your partner, Beckett—"

"Castle, there is no way I am letting you come with us with a broken wrist. You're no good to me that way." Beckett put over the last Velcro tape on the jacket. She was about ready to leave, except she hadn't finished this conversation with Castle.

"Ouch." Castle turned to her with puppy dog eyes.

Beckett had fallen for those so many times before that she had taught herself to turn cold at them. "Stay here. I'll update you in the car, if you want."

He collapsed onto his chair with a sad look in his eyes. "Fine. But it won't be as good as actually being there." Beckett couldn't hide the smile anymore as she looked over at him. Castle has proven to be very important to her, and she did want him with her. It's just that he could be in harm's way if she let him go in this condition. She couldn't risk that.

She wouldn't.

"Be a good boy, Castle. I'll see you when I get back."

And without another word, she fled to the break room where the rest of the team was getting ready. Within minutes, they filed out of there with intense looks on each of their faces and again, Castle couldn't help but worry about Beckett's safety. That's all he could think about. She was always putting herself out there and he was afraid that one day, it could hurt her.

Castle turned to look down on his hands when in the corner of his eye, he saw the long, black haired doctor sitting on Beckett's chair with his head partially in his hands. Unable to resist the urge to say so, and to avoid the awkwardness that always seemed to follow the two of them, he said, "You know, Beckett doesn't like it when someone else sits on her chair. It makes her snappy."

Josh looked up slowly. "Yeah, well, I'm not just someone else, Castle." He replied, somewhat arrogantly. Castle expected this kind of response from him, and decided to have a little fun with this exchange. "Of course. You're the boyfriend. Sometimes I forget."

"Or you _want_ to forget." Josh scoffed.

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"Gee, Castle, I don't know. Figure it out."

Castle shifted in his chair, resting his hands on his lap and crossing his legs at his ankles. Josh gave his best at avoiding Castle's purposeful look, but Castle made it difficult for him to do so.

He had heard the little argument Beckett had with Josh as he was coming in, but he was too far away to get the details. Right now, looking at the forlorn motorcycle boy he had unaffectionately nicknamed, he wondered why he wanted to speak to him so badly. Was it that man to man, he knew when a guy was close to being done, or was he just ever curious to know any information that involved Beckett?

"Saved any lives today, Josh?" Castle asked randomly.

"Yes, Castle, I did something of _worth_ today—unlike you who's been following Kate around all day like a lap dog." Josh snapped, running his fingers through his longish hair. Castle's face turned dark and the light disposition he always had suddenly withered away. He turned to Josh with an unreadable expression.

Even Josh almost looked like he regretted the words that left his mouth. "Where the hell did that come from?" Castle asked, a deep frown setting on his features. He'd always been an easy guy to be around, and though he was often attacked with jokes, Castle had been the type of guy to have a big smile on his face like nothing could make him upset.

Well, what motorcycle boy just said made Castle feel very unsettled.

Josh looked at him with his mouth agape and then he slowly sighed. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Castle. That was—that was a stupid thing to say."

"Look, I get it, you're mad because tonight things didn't go your way. But don't take out on me. I'm just trying to help out... in _some_ way." Castle replied. "You seem down, and I've had the habit of cheering people up. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But either way, I'm happy about it."

"Must be why Kate likes you around her so much." Josh's next words were, and this surprised Castle. Josh said that with a small smile, sitting up straight in his chair. "Aw, yeah, sure. Could be. But I am pretty useful on cases too. I like to think that as a writer, I have this very different view of things." Castle answered him, laughing nervously.

"Castle, c'mon." He said with a little, impatient sigh. Rick's laugh went dry as Josh continued. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am. I can see it. She looks at you in this way..."

"What do you mean?" Castle asked quietly.

Josh looked over at Castle with a resigned look, his eyes looking very clouded.

"The way Kate looks at you, Castle—she _never_ looks at me that way. And... and ever since we've been together, I've been hoping to get her to look at me the way she looks at you."

Castle played with the buttons of his dress shirt as he glanced up at Josh. "No. Kate—Beckett loves you." He gulped.

"You think so?" Josh retorted. "Because I keep telling myself that and it doesn't work."

"Josh, there is nothing going on between us. I work with her and we're partners, but it'll never come to that point."

"Do you keep convincing yourself of that, Castle?"

Now it was his turn to steer clear of Josh's intense gaze.

"I would never ruin anything for you guys."

Josh chuckled. "I know you wouldn't. But it's not just about that now. She likes you, Castle. More than she'll ever feel for me. And honestly, it sucks. And it hurts." Castle could see the pained look in his dark eyes; a side that he'd never seen. "I just want Kate to be happy."

"Me too." Castle said, smiling a small smile as his thoughts drifted to the beautiful brunette.

"_You make her happy, Castle_."

He turned to Josh with a startled look at the admittance. "I-I do my best."

Josh rested his hands on his knees, nodding. "I've been trying to get this relationship to work. I don't know what else I can do anymore, you know. I care about her alot and I'd do anything for her but I can't give her what she wants. I'm not _you_, Castle. And she wants you."

Castle could hear the blood pounding in his ears and his emotions easily clouding his logic. What was Josh trying to say? Other than that—Kate. If it was true, then everything he thought he knew would change forever.

"You guys have had a tough night."

"A tough year would be exact." Josh interjected.

"You'll work things out. Everything will be okay." Castle said in an even tone. He was controlling the thoughts that were rushing to his head and the overwhelming wash of dizziness that came over him. Josh stood up and shoved his hands into his jeans. "Not this time. Not this time." He repeated. "Take care of Kate, Castle."

"What about dinner?" Castle asked, slightly frazzled. "What about your plans for tonight?"

"Tell Kate that dinner got cold. It's no good anymore and I'm done trying to fix things."

Josh shuffled past Castle quickly before Castle was up to his feet, staring after him with torn feelings. This is what Castle wanted, right? Josh out of the picture. And now he got it. But somehow it didn't feel right. To every action there is an equal reaction and Castle could only imagine what Beckett would feel.

"Josh, Kate doesn't deserve this! Talk to her!" Castle found himself calling out to the tall cardiac surgeon who was nearing the elevator. "Don't do this to her."

The elevator doors dinged and there was nothing he could do except stare at his retreating back. Josh didn't even look up once until there was an inch between the doors left, and he was taken down to the ground floor.

A rush of thoughts surged through Castle's head. Should he chase after Josh, beat some sense into him? Convince him that if he did this, there was no going back?

But was that what Castle wanted to do? Or was it something he needed to do?

His mind was telling him to move his ass, and run after Josh. If he had to, he'd handcuff him to a chair so he could tell Beckett how he felt to her face, because she deserves that. All the good things were overpowering Castle but he stayed glued right where he was. It was the right to do, it was the ethical decision.

But he didn't want to save their relationship. For the first time, it became clear to Castle what he really wanted from Beckett—and hell, it wasn't friendship.

He had zoned out, buried in his thoughts until Ryan snapped his fingers in front of his face. Castle reacted, blinking his eyes furiously and backing into his chair.

"Ryan," He said, surprised. The blue eyed detective peered at him curiously, having a small smile on his face. Castle wondered how long he'd been standing like a mannequin and thinking about Beckett. "Is this a new experiment for a new Nikki Heat book? How long you can stand still without blinking or moving?"

Castle chuckled. "No, but, that's a good idea. How long was I in that position, exactly?"

"We arrived about four, five minutes ago. Saw you like that when I came out of the elevator. Went into the break room to get water, brew a little coffee and walked to my desk—and you were still like that, so, it's been quite a while. What's up?"

Castle shrugged. "I don't know. Must have spaced out."

Ryan nodded at him and Castle noticed his vest was still on. "How did the operation go?"

"We caught them red-handed and we had alot of manpower plus Beckett, so we apprehended them quickly." Ryan grinned at him. "You missed out on all the fun, Castle. Told you to be careful. We don't have stunt doubles at the NYPD, man."

He looked down on his bandaged wrist with a slight shake of his head. "Oh, I wouldn't say _that_." Castle responded dryly. "I had a pretty... revealing time here."

"Sure, whatever makes you feel better." Ryan slapped his back, passing him and to the break room.

"Where's Beckett?" Castle spun around and asked. Ryan stopped at the door and shrugged. "Must be cleaning up in the lockers. She'll come around soon."

Castle's imaginative mind went on a frenzy as Ryan's words took on a life of their own. Cleaning up? Why did Beckett have to clean up and Ryan didn't have to? Did she hurt herself? Was she cleaning up her wounds?

He felt his chest tighten as he struggled to ask, "What do you mean? Is she hurt?"

"You worry too much about me, Castle." Her familiar voice came from behind him. Castle turned around, catching Beckett's smirk. She ran her fingers through her long, brown hair before sitting down on her chair.

"You said you'd update me from the car." Castle replied, moving around his chair. "We couldn't take the car, it would have taken too long. Besides, the crime scene wasn't far and it was a good workout." Beckett crossed her long legs.

Castle gave her a pouting look. "Oh, come on, Castle, it's not like you were dying from information deprivation."

"How would you know that? You didn't call to check."

Beckett smiled widely, her eyes meeting Castle's. "I'm positive that you'll live. And you had company. Which reminds me, where did Josh go?" She started looking around.

Castle took that time to organize his thoughts and mask his expressions. Playing poker did do some good to him as Beckett turned to him again with an expectant look.

"He was called. To work." He blurted out. "It was an emergency and he really had to go."

Beckett's face froze and she cast her eyes away from him for a short few seconds. When she looked up again, Castle could see the disappointment swirling in her emerald eyes. "Josh didn't want to leave, but he—"

She raised a hand, silencing Castle before he could finish. "It's okay. I'm used to it." Kate let out a forced laugh. "Well, uhm, that's... that's Josh. Always saving the world."

An easy silence fell upon them—a common thing whenever Josh came up. Castle felt it wasn't safe to look at Beckett, yet. He was afraid she would see right through him.

It took Castle all of his inner strength not to shudder when Beckett gently touched his good hand. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked. He shook his head, a smile edging its way to fullness. "No. But I know a good place."

"It's not Chinese?" She made a face. "I've had enough of those at home."

Castle grinned. "I was thinking American food. Burgers, hotdogs, fries, shakes—"

"—calories." Beckett finished, laughing.

Kate blushed when Castle cocked his head to the side adorably. "So what about it, KB, you up for it?"

"Oh, if it's about food, I'm going all the way." She grinned at him. Castle jumped from his seat and offered a hand to Beckett and she took it, very grateful for his company. She thinks Castle knows she loves having him around. Kate needed the child in him.

While Beckett collected her purse and her coat, Castle started to fiddle with the bandage that had covered his wrist and the hard cast over it. He fingered the words Beckett had signed on, and he felt a genuine smile at it.

"How's your wrist?" She asked. Castle looked at Beckett, her eyes filled with concern. "Is it hurting? The doctor said you're not supposed to feel any pain." Beckett covered the space between them, her hands reaching out to Castle's injury.

"Now who's worrying too much?" Castle grinned.

Beckett let out a throaty laugh, but gave him a nod of approval at his comeback. "Well done, Mr. Castle. Come on. I'm starving." She pressed her hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the elevator. "But you are okay, right?" She asked again.

Normally, Castle would have started to tease here right then and there, but now, staring into her eyes, Castle could see infallible concern in her eyes. His mouth closed off from any crack remarks.

"Yeah." He answered seriously. "I'm okay, Beckett."

Kate smiled, pressing the down button. "Good."

The doors open, and a few people came out. Castle and Beckett entered the elevator alone, another moment of silence passing them.

Castle thought he was doing a great job at being more mature—in a sense, when Beckett started to giggle. He gave her a confused look as she turned red. "You are just itching to say something right now, aren't you, Castle?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." He couldn't contain his grin. "Does this mean I can go with you and nab the bad guys next time?"

"I'll think about it, Castle."

"Come on, I'm good to go! Besides, I can shoot with one hand."

"I said I'll think about it."

"What's there to think about?"

"Rick." She said in a warning tone.

"Katherine." Castle shot back, back to his sugar rush hyped self. Beckett opened her mouth, but nothing came out. They both stared at each other for a few minutes until Beckett revealed her pearly whites in a loud laugh, turning away from Castle. Then he started to laugh with her.

In the end, they were quite sure that their laughter was booming down the floors as they went by.


	2. She had hoped for the best

**Author's note:** Thank you so much for the reviews! Hahaha, it was really supposed to be just one scene but you guys wanted more, so here it is. Chapter 3 will be up soon. I hope. :) Tell me what you think about this one.

"You are sparring with me tomorrow, Castle. And that is final." Kate declared, leaning on the back of the soft booth they were sitting in. They had just ordered a monster deal that was good for six people.

And it was just her and Castle. They finished _everything_.

Castle lifted an eyebrow at her, his hand resting on his full stomach. "Sparring, huh? Does that mean we get to _hold_ each other—intimately? I get to grab you from behind and wrap you in my arms in a tight embrace and _breathe_ on each other? Feeling each other's hearts pounding as we struggle on the padded floor—"

"—I said _sparring_, Castle."

"Oh, Detective, I bet sparring was the last thing in your head when my words... _enriched _you, opening you to the possibilities of—"

Kate turned beet red. "I don't know what you're talking about. This isn't a book, Castle, so you can stop speaking writer now."

Castle realized she was most likely serious about this, and he could feel his grin slipping. He'd seen Beckett spar, and it always ended with the other person lying on the ground—groaning.

"What about my wrist? I can't injure myself any further, Beckett. As much as I am tempted by the idea of us sharing bodily fluids—"

"_Castle_!"

"—I will have to decline your sweet offer."

Beckett crossed her arms, her mouth quirked. "I probably gained ten pounds tonight, and this is your fault. You owe me."

"What?" Rick exclaimed. "You said you were hungry! I was merely being a gentleman by—"

"—by feeding me with food enough for an army?" Kate finished, her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. Castle sighed. "No, by providing you with every food option you could want."

Beckett wasn't surprised at how Castle could justify himself easily. Normally, when a guy did that to her, she would get pissed.

But with Castle and his smile... plus the sincere look in his eyes, he was the only guy who could pull it off.

"Fine. You . Me. Jogging tomorrow." Beckett said. "Sound good to you, Castle, or did one of your ankles suddenly snap?"

Castle nodded firmly. "Jogging it is." He pulled his smoothie towards him, successfully capturing the bendy straw in his mouth the first time. "What time?"

"Five in the morning. Sharp."

Kate had the satisfaction of seeing Castle spit his strawberry smoothie out, his eyes bulging. She chuckled, and Castle wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "_Five?_ Beckett, do you want to be killed by the maniac lurking in the sidewalks at _that_ hour?"

"Seriously? You're scared?"

"I'm worried for _your_ safety."

"Last time I checked, I was the one with the gun." Kate laughed.

Castle leaned forward, his face hovering over hers. Beckett almost staggered back at the intensity in his eyes, but she remained calm under the heat of his gaze. "Is this your way of punishing me?"

"Oh, Castle, I can think of worse things to do to you. This is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Do any of those thoughts involve you and me... with handcuffs?"

Kate rolled her eyes just in time for the waiter to reappear with their check. She began to reach for her wallet when Castle handed over his credit card.

"My treat, Beckett." He smiled.

When the young waiter came back with Castle's platinum card, Castle thanked him and started scooting out of the booth. He could smell spicy chicken wings at the next table, but even the slight thought about it made him want to throw up. He was definitely done for the night.

Kate noticed the disgusted look on his face and smiled. "What's wrong, Castle? Detesting the thought of cardio in the early morning?" She asked, teasing him.

He shook his head, enjoying the soft smile on her lips that she had given him.

"No way." Castle tugged at the collar of his coat. "I just don't think I'll be walking into this restaurant anytime soon."

"You and me both." Kate grinned, walking towards the door. Castle followed after her, and they exited into the cold night.

Castle felt the cold wind slap him in the face, and he immediately secured his hands into his pockets. He noticed Beckett shiver despite the jacket she was wearing and completely forgot about his own issues. "Here, you can have my coat."

Beckett glanced at him. "What? And have to do paperwork about you freezing to death under the watchful eye of an NYPD detective?"

"I'm serious. You're shivering."

"So are _you_, Castle. Keep the coat on."

Castle conceded. "Want to share a cab?" She nodded. "Sure. But we have to split this time—can't have you paying for everything we do together."

"I don't mind." Rick shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, well, _I_ do."

After a few minutes, Castle finally succeeded in flagging down a cab. As the car slowed down in front of them, he looked over at Beckett with a devilish smile. "You know, we're lucky we got a cab at this time of the night. I had a Plan B, though, incase there were no takers."

Kate went first as Castle had opened the door for her. "And what was Plan B?"

She waited until Castle settled in his seat and shut the door, closing them off from the chilly air.

"Piggyback ride home." He replied, his eyes shining with jest.

They spent the ride in silence, each of them engrossed in their thoughts. Beckett looked peaceful as her eyes strayed out the window. Castle was just quiet because he was too full from dinner.

Seconds later, he caught a glimpse of her profile. She looked beautiful as always—and she was smiling... but there was something off about it. It was more of like a sad smile. The same smile she put on when Castle told her about Josh.

_Josh_.

"Oh, no." He muttered under his breath. Castle glanced over again to see if she heard him, but whatever was on her mind was cutting her off from her surroundings. Beckett remained in that position.

Castle could feel his good mood fading as alarms went off in his head. What was he going to do? He lied to Beckett about Josh's reasons and there was no turning back from that. He had made Josh look good and now, if he told Beckett everything, not only would it make Castle look bad, but his feelings for her would be out in the open.

And he had tried so hard to hide it from her.

He wish he could have given his actions more thought. But this was Rick Castle—the guy who jumped to conclusions and didn't think about the consequences until it was too late.

Castle balled his hands into fists, starting to feel really worried. If he said anything to Beckett now, it could ruin everything and if he _didn't_ say anything, it could _still_ ruin everything. And tonight had been amazing. They spent two hours in that restaurant, topics jumping from cases to celebrity gossip—he even got Beckett to laugh at his corny jokes. If only the earlier part didn't happen, this night could have been perfect for the two of them.

Irritation started to seep into Castle's system; thinking about Kate's boyfriend—oh, _ex_-boyfriend—but Kate wasn't aware of that yet...

Oh god, this was messed up.

He can't imagine what Josh would have wanted him to do. How he could have left Castle with something as important as that and expected him to relay the message to Beckett as if it was a lab report—and how Castle didn't think of it as a big of a deal.

Castle didn't realize how deep he was in this until now. She would never forgive him if she found out about this—and that didn't give him much hope. Come on, she's a homicide detective. She will not give up until she found her answers.

"Castle?" Her voice disrupted his thoughts. He turned slowly to Beckett with a dazed expression. "Huh?"

She smiled. "This is me."

He realized that the cab had stopped, and that they were outside of Beckett's apartment building. He routinely dug into his pockets for his wallet, but she put a hand to stop him.

"We're splitting, remember?"

Castle blinked, obviously hungover from the great degree of contemplation he had done. "Right." He answered, his face blank.

"What's wrong?" Kate asked, handing the money to the driver.

"Nothing. Nothing. I just had one of those moments when you—when you can't stop thinking."

"Ah. I can totally see you getting lost in that silly but talented head of yours." Beckett grinned.

That made Castle smile, even for the moment.

"So, uh, I'll see you later. Should I pick you up or..."

"I'll catch you in your apartment, Beckett." Castle confirmed. "Okay, great." She pulled the handle, opening the door. Beckett stepped out to the sidewalk, and the wind tousled up her hair playfully. He took her seat, inching towards the rolled down window.

Beckett leaned down and met Castle's face in the open window. "Hey, Castle... thank you. For tonight." She smiled at him ardently. "I had a really good time. Thanks for being the one person who never disappoints me."

He willed his smile to stay in place, but her words had impacted him so much he knew the minute she'd turn away, Castle would fall apart. His throat began to close up, but he uttered the one word that he knew would say more than he could ever say right now.

"Always."

**xxx**

Kate dumped her purse and her jacket on her couch. She dropped to her comfortable couch, eager to slip her shoes off and wiggle her toes. Once they were off, she had the pleasure of doing just that.

It had been a long day, but it felt great to unwind with Castle at the end of it.

She tried not to be cynical at being glued to her desk tomorrow doing paperwork as she got up. She noticed the light blinking on her answering machine. As she neared it, she saw there were two messages left for her.

Half of her was silently pleading that it wasn't another murder—she just got off from work. Her other half hoped it would be from someone interesting.

She pressed her finger against the button and the machine shrieked. '_You have two messages._'

"I know that." Beckett muttered to the inanimate object.

The first message played. '_Becks, it's Maddy. Wanted to know if you were still up for our weekend-all-girls-getaway. It'll be fun, I promise. Just us. You need to be around live people more. Call me back_.'

Kate smiled. Maddy had been egging on her for this trip. It sounded fun, and under any circumstances she would have loved to go. But her schedule was just unpredictable. She didn't want to end up letting Maddy down on the day if she couldn't make it because some dead body showed up on her front door.

She reminded herself to give Maddy a call later, though.

The machine beeped, signalling the end of that message. Beckett felt her throat itching from all the food she had consumed earlier, and walked to her kitchen to grab a glass of water while the next message played.

'_Good evening, Ms. Beckett. This is the restaurant manager speaking from Le Bernardin_."

Beckett was taking a glass out of the cupboard when she stopped at the sound of the deep voice and the formality.

'_We are so sorry to inform you that we had to give up your reservation spot to another couple on the waiting list. You were scheduled to arrive here at eight tonight, and when you didn't, we were forced to give your table. If you would like to reschedule your dinner date with Mr. Davidson, please don't hesitate to call us. Good day._'

Le Bernardin, wow. Beckett put her glass under the running water. Could have been a fancy dinner, though she doubted she would have had as much fun as she did with Castle tonight.

When she had gulped down all the water, and placed the glass in the sink, it got her thinking. She _was_ disappointed about her failed dinner tonight with Josh, but everything happened for a reason. Even if they did go out, he'd still be forced to leave early for his hospital emergency. Some things are just not meant to happen.

But still... they put up with each other alot. The two of them exerted much effort into this relationship because there were alot of factors that hindered them. And Kate thought that what Josh did tonight was his move of trying to make things right between them—especially because of the rocky year they'd been through.

None of this was any of their faults, but Kate felt like it was her turn to do something for him. Maybe things would be better if Josh saw that she was willing to work for this as well.

So with a determined gleam in her green eyes, Kate strode to her room to change out of her work clothes and into a shirt and jeans. She figured she could pick up food on the way to the hospital and surprise him. It might not have been what he planned, but the important thing was that they get to spend time together.

Beckett faced her full-length mirror, running her hands through her hair and gave it a slight shake. Okay, that would have to do.

She made sure all the windows and doors were locked, and that the alarm was on before going out to the hall. She was still so full, but a glass of wine couldn't hurt her, so she thought about stopping by a wine shop to pick up Josh's favorite white wine.

Tonight, Kate felt so alive. And happy. And inspired. And everything good she could think of. She didn't even need Castle's help for synonyms of happy. She just was.

Beckett left her apartment with a big smile and a stream of ecstasy powering her up.

She couldn't wait to see Josh.


	3. The smell of disinfectants

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for your reviews! I really appreciate them. Here's Chapter 3, as promised. :) I know this is shorter compared to the other two, but give it a chance. Will do my best to put up Chapter 4 and not keep you waiting.

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><p>Beckett held her breath as she walked down the hospital hallway. It's not that she was repulsed by the strong stench of disinfectant and cleaning agents that every hospital seemed to share, but she just preferred not inhaling them all the time. It's bad enough that it gets stuck in your hair and on your skin if you stick around too long.<p>

The hospital, even at night, wasn't utterly quiet. There was the steady beeping of machines, small groans of patients in rooms, and the hustle and bustle of feet somewhere around the corner.

She knew where to go if she needed Josh. He did, in fact, show her around the hospital on their second date.

But when Kate arrived at the cardiology department and peeked inside, there were a couple of doctors talking in hushed tones, but Josh wasn't one of them. She lingered at the door for a few seconds more, just to make sure. One of the doctors looked up at her, and Beckett found that familiar smile.

"Kate! What are you doing here?" he asked, walking towards her. Kate found herself looking up at the older doctor, who had a striking resemblance to George Clooney. The side of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You here for Josh?"

"Yeah. Do you know where he is?" Beckett nodded, and smiled back.

"Uhm, no, actually. I thought he clocked out hours ago."

"Yeah, his shift ended at around five. But, uhm, he was called back here for an emergency operation or something." Kate explained, feeling at ease with the friendly colleague.

His gray eyebrows muddled together in confusion. "Really? I didn't know anything about that. And I haven't seen him around since he left this afternoon. You know, but then again, today's been a busy day and I might have missed him. You could go to the Nurses Station and ask for him. If he's done with his surgery, they could page him for you."

Kate smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks, Don."

"Sure. See you around, Kate."

Beckett made her way to the Nurses Station on the same floor like she owned the place. She knew the floor like the back of her hand. They often ate dinner at the hospital in some empty room that Josh was able to secure. Not the most wooing moments, but Josh had some skill at setting up the mood.

She chuckled, remembering their rendezvous only two weeks ago.

Beckett turned a corner, catching the bright light that fell on that area of the hall. She slowed down, seeing the wide window and took a long look inside. Her breath hitched as she glanced down on the babies in the nursery.

They were so _small_... and vulnerable. Beckett had a thing for children—though she told no one from work. Ryan and Esposito would think she was a different person, and Castle... well, he'd teased her about going soft. If she learned anything from her past experiences, things start to go south when you feed the animals.

The baby nearest to the window was fidgety, his hands always moving around. Then his small, blue eyes almost looked directly at her, and Beckett gave a start as she looked back with a gentle smile. There was something so calm and safe about looking into his eyes... Kate realized it reminded her of someone she knew. Someone with the same soulful blue eyes that could turn highly mischievous in one second.

She tore her eyes away from the adorable baby as she felt the redness creep up her neck and to her face as an image of someone flashed in her head. See, that's what you get when you're around someone for too long. You keep imagining that they're with you when they aren't.

Oh, Castle's probably at home right now, working on his best-selling novel. Kate kinda missed him.

She straightened up, the smell of baby powder covering her. Now that wasn't a bad thing to be around. Nurseries probably always smelled like baby powder and... _babies_.

Kate had only turned around when she saw the big sign that said, '_Nurses Station_' ten feet away. She held on to the brown paper bag in her hand, the wine bottle feeling like it was slightly tipping over.

There was a nurse wearing pink scrubs with her back to Kate, labelling a number of folders on the table. She approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her. Beckett hated the feeling of being sneaked up on too.

"Excuse me," she said, smiling.

"Can I help you?" The younger nurse asked.

"Yeah, I'm hoping you can. I was wondering if Dr. Davidson was out of surgery or not?"

"Let me check that for you."

She looked at her computer screen, and after a few minutes came back to Beckett with news. "I'm sorry, but Dr. Davidson ended his shift four hours ago. If you want, I can give you his contact numbers."

"No, it's alright." Beckett shook her head. She was starting to feel a little confused, but she pressed the nurse for more questions. Maybe Josh finished his surgery early and left or he didn't clock in, in the first place. "I was told that he came back here for an operation. Do you have any record of that?"

The blonde haired nurse looked again unabatingly.

"I'm afraid we don't. There are no scheduled operations for Dr. Davidson tonight. His last one was two in the afternoon."

"Are—Are you sure?" Beckett gave off a chuckle. "I'm pretty confident that my source was reliable." Her thoughts went to Castle.

Her nametag said, 'April'. April shook her head.

"Well, Dr. Davidson has a team when going into surgery, and I'm looking at it right now, his head nurse has already ended her shift as well. And it would be impossible for Dr. Davidson to go into surgery without her."

Beckett's tongue swirled around in her mouth uncomfortably. She didn't like what she was hearing right now. She felt like an idiot for asking again, but she just couldn't let it go.

"Can you please check again? Maybe there's some mistake?"

What surprised Beckett more than the news was Nurse April's condescending smile—as if she felt sorry for Beckett. She probably thought Beckett was a desperate ex-girlfriend.

Well, Beckett wasn't desperate at all. She just wondered deeply why things weren't adding up. It would explain if he didn't clock in, that they wouldn't have any record of Josh. But there wasn't any record of the _surgery_—and that was what bothered Kate. She was exploring plausible explanations for this while the nurse checked again. And again.

Why would Josh say to Castle that he had to leave for an emergency, when there wasn't one?

Come on, Beckett. Think.

Maybe he _did_ have an operation tonight, just not in this hospital. Now, that made some sense. Josh had connections to several hospitals in New York due to his abilities as a cardiac surgeon. Kate didn't think of that possibility, since this hospital was mainly where he was employed.

"This is the last thing I can think off. Other than that, I can't tell you much anymore." April started. "We have a logbook here, and it would indicate what department used the operating rooms. For tonight, neurology had a surgery at six, and there was an eye surgery at seven. That's it." She gave Beckett an apologetic smile.

"I see. Thank you for all your trouble. I appreciate it." Beckett murmured, feeling a little part of the excitement in her gradually deflating. She backed away from the counter, silently walking in the direction of the elevator. Well, her plan just blew up in her face. That's what Beckett got after this seemingly brilliant idea.

She couldn't blame Josh; if she'd call to ask where he was, then that could have saved her the whole trip. But then _that_ would have ruined the surprise.

Beckett pressed the button. She had no idea how physically trying it was to surprise someone. You know, Castle always did that to her and it seemed like an easy thing to him—_woah_, hold it. When did she start thinking about Castle?

Or the better question was, when did she ever stop?

Kate was thankful when the elevator doors opened and revealed itself empty. She didn't feel like initiating a conversation. And she needed the silence to figure out what she was going to do next.

If this were a case, she would hunt down every hospital he could be at—with her access to several databases and all. But tonight, she was all out of effort to do so.

The fact that this was clearly no murder didn't give her the urgency to suddenly turn rogue.

The elevators beeped once when it stopped on the ground floor of the hospital, and Beckett got off. Well, wherever Josh may be, he was bound to come back to one place.

His apartment.

The security guard noticed Beckett leave the hospital, and hailed a cab for her, to Beckett's shock. She made sure to thank him and considered his small act of chivalry.

This part of the night might have turned out the way she expected, but there was no need to be pessimistic. Obviously, there were _still_ reasons to smile.

She gave Josh's address to the driver. Even the cab she was in made her smile—it was unlike any other cab she had taken, because it looked and _smelled_ like it had been cleaned. See?

Tonight was going to be better.

The taxi driver's speedy way of driving got her in front of his building in record time, though Beckett did fear for her life at one point. Feeling mighty generous, she gave him a well-deserved tip, earning her a big, toothy grin from the driver.

When she stepped onto the sidewalk, the doorman waiting out front hurriedly met her.

"Detective Beckett, it's good to see you again."

Beckett smiled. "There's no need for formalities, I told you. Call me Kate."

He walked with her to the entrance, opening the large doors for her with a strong pull. "Thanks. Is Josh in?"

"Yes, he is. He'll be happy to see you. Should I tell him you're coming up?"

"No, but thank you." Kate grinned. "I want to surprise him." She held up the paper bag in her hand.

"Ah. I'm happy to see that romance isn't dead with the young people today." He replied.

Beckett laughed. "Dead like my victims?—No, I'm actually a hopeless romantic."

"Good to know, Ms. Beckett."

"Have a good night."

"To you as well."

Just Kate's luck; when she whirled around, the elevator doors were closing and she rushed after it. For some reason, she didn't want to waste any more time to see Josh.

She managed to slip her hand in between the doors, and considerate people inside waited for her. Beckett gave them a thankful smile each before putting a finger to Josh's floor number.

As she waited patiently while others exited on different floors, Beckett imagined how Josh would react.

Seriously, this is the first time Beckett's gone her way to do something like this. She was sure he would love the Rombauer Chardonnay and the strawberries coated with dark chocolate. It was one of his simple, favorite pleasures.

They inescapably stopped at the floor Beckett was going to, and she bounded out of the elevator a little too excitedly. Josh's apartment was just to her right, and as she neared it, she could feel her heart racing with dynamism.

When Kate stood outside his door, she engineered a debate on whether she would knock or just use the extra key he had given her.

She didn't know how she was able to even control herself at this point. Beckett felt like she was high. High on energy, that is.

Beckett raised a fist to the wooden door, making her decision. She bumped her fist twice, and waited in anticipation.

The television in the background and she wondered what he was watching. After a few seconds, Beckett heard him reply.

"Yeah, I'm coming!"

As Beckett readied a smile on her face, Josh's deadened footsteps drew closer and closer to the door.

Then the knob twisted open.


	4. He got what he wanted

**Author's Note: **Some of you probably hate me right now for that cliffhanger. I'm really sorry! Hahahaha. Anyways, thank you so much for your great reviews! They mean alot to me. Here's Chapter 4. Enjoy. :'

The icy air inside his apartment was the first thing that hit Beckett when the door opened. The next thing she felt was Josh's body heat that towered over her. She could see the agitated look in his eyes as he stared at her but nevertheless, she smiled widely at him.

"What are you doing here?" His deep voice asked. It took Beckett a few seconds to answer, since she was still reeling from the very astounded look on Josh's face.

"Surprise?" She said meekly, and raised the paper bag at him.

Josh looked at her blankly and received the bag, his hands slightly shaking. "What is this?"

"Something I thought you might like. Go ahead, open it."

Josh glanced at her uneasily and sighed. He turned his back to her, walking over to his kitchen counter. He put down the paper bag without even looking inside as Beckett had suggested. Kate already knew something was wrong, and she followed him inside his apartment apprehensively, closing the door behind her.

"Castle told me you left early for an emergency operation." She started. "I dropped by the hospital but you had already left, so I came here."

"What are you talking about?" Josh asked in confoundment, clearly expressing genuine surprise at her words. "Castle—he didn't tell you, didn't he?" He sighed again, more heavily this time.

"What? Tell me what, Josh?"

Kate dreaded the feeling inside of her now. There was something wrong, something terribly wrong and she was afraid that she got the short end of the stick here. The romantic disposition completely evaporated, and Beckett felt herself put her guard up for the first time around him.

There was a big space between them. Josh had positioned himself against the granite counter, his hands gripping the edge of it like he didn't want to let go—and Beckett was standing near the door. She felt like he had purposefully arranged that distance between them and she was suddenly scared to know why.

"Kate... I can't be in this relationship with you anymore. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

She felt the blood leave her face and she _literally_ had trouble breathing. She figured out way long ago that something wasn't right—but _this_? She never, in a million years, expected this.

Kate was still unable to form her sentences and the only way she could reveal to Josh how she felt at the moment was through her eyes. There was no mistaking the hurt that she was feeling.

"We both knew this was coming, Kate..." Josh said weakly. "I don't know—"

"We _both_ knew?" Beckett managed to croak out. "I-I thought everything was fine between us. Yeah, we've had a difficult run but I never... I never _thought_ it was this bad."

"I'm sorry that this is so sudden." He ran his hand through his hair. "But Kate, I'm hoping we could still be friends."

"Friends? Josh, what is this? High school?" She found herself saying. The initial shock had quickly passed over Beckett. The hurt and anger she didn't feel minutes before was now tumbling down on her greatly. "You didn't come to me with an offer to become just friends. I didn't take on this relationship because I wanted to be _just_ friends, Josh. Don't go down that road."

Josh looked offended, but Beckett was in no concern over his feelings. This was not the time to be thinking about choosing her words carefully, because right now, she felt cheated and deceived. That boiled down on her so densely that if only she weren't stronger as a person, she would have broken down and cried.

"Come on, Kate, I care about you. I still do and I always will. I want us to continue our friendship." Josh explained feebly. "This doesn't have to end completely." He advanced toward Kate, his hands extending to her.

"Stay where you are." She felt herself shrink against the back of the couch, her eyes trained on the tall doctor. "You chose to tell me from afar like it means _nothing_ to you instead of coming on to me like a sensitive person would do. So I'm telling you, Josh; Stay the hell where you are."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Josh raised his hands. "_I'm sorry_. I don't know how many times I'm going to say it, but I mean it, Kate. I'm sorry that we couldn't work this out. I'm sorry that I didn't do my best. I'm sorry that I didn't do enough. I'm sorry that I couldn't get off work earlier. I'm sorry I was so busy. I'm sorry that I had more time for my job than I did for you."

He came out sounding earnest, but Beckett was _not_ stupid. And it just added fuel to the fire hearing his words. She knew how to read between the lines and Josh was not talking about himself. He was insinuating everything Beckett did wrong—to her face and he was acting like he was the most straightforward man in the world.

"Don't you _dare_. Don't you make it sound like you're the victim in this, Josh. You clearly think I'm not bright enough for you but if you've got something you want to say to me, say it to my face—_I'm right here_. I'm right here. I know what you're trying to do." Beckett said, her teeth barred against each other. She was seething. "You know what, it's okay. You don't have to make me pick up the clues on what you're saying, because I do that enough at work."

Josh knew he got caught. He put his head down guiltily, avoiding Beckett's glare.

"What is it that you want to hear from me? You want me to tell you that I'm going to give up my assignment just so we could go out to dinner tonight? To put justice on hold because of some expensive reservation—"

"This is not just about tonight, Kate!" Josh yelled, blowing up.

Beckett was stunned. But she set her lips in a thin line and compelled herself not to take her service weapon out.

"Who are we kidding?" He continued. "This was never going to work—"

"—I see you've made up your mind about that."

Josh exhaled loudly. "I took a risk in this relationship, okay? I was inlove with you, and I knew the first time that it was going to take some push to get you to feel the same way. I _didn't_ know what I was getting myself into. I dove into this relationship with no idea if you were going to reciprocate or not but I was sure about one thing. I was _so_ sure about you, Kate."

Beckett became conscious that she was holding her breath in. She let out an unnatural sigh, but it sounded shakier that she had predicted. It had taken her all of her inner strength to breathe out. There was that great uncertainty that the dam was going to break and that she was going to be a teary mess.

But somehow, her tears had stayed back and Beckett jumped on her controlled moment to speak. Who knew if she could still hold herself together later?

"You don't think that it was equally frightening for me? To let my walls down and to let you in without having that complete control over what could happen?" she cried out. "Do you think it was easy to put my guard down and just let myself be around you? Do you have _any_ idea how much that took for me?" Beckett's voice cracked. "Did it ever occur to you, Josh, how many nights I laid awake in bed, thinking if this was all worth it? That if I got hurt in the end, would I know that I did enough?"

"Kate," Josh said, his dark eyes silently pleading her to stop. He'd heard enough. He couldn't continue seeing the pain she was in.

"Do you wanna know the truth? I was scared. I was _really_ scared of getting hurt again. Because I've played it in my head over and over again that feeling when the person who means something to you chooses someone else over you and you get to watch them walk away and be happy."

Little did Josh know, Kate wasn't talking about him in that portion of the conversation anymore. Even she felt herself stray from the entire point.

Beckett relieved herself by gasping inwardly. She couldn't believe she was still hurting about that—and that it had come up at this time.

"How long have you... have you decided that you didn't want this anymore?" Beckett asked, her voice still trembling. She knew that whatever Josh's answer was, it would still hurt her, but she had to know how long it had been on his mind.

"Kate, that's not important—" He stopped short, seeing her face. Josh nodded to himself and said,

"It comes and it goes."

Beckett unwillingly closed her eyes. A person's words are not always prepared to come out as respectful or complaisant but she wished he had picked a different line. She knew she asked for it, but instead of giving her some closure, it felt like it did nothing more but add injury to insult. Josh's words made her feel like she was an easy game. That she was nothing but a shallow reminder of a relationship.

It made her feel unimportant.

"But tonight... I don't know what happened. It just—it felt like the right thing to do." Josh said, looking into her eyes for the first time since they spoke. "Kate, I can't be with someone who has a foot out the door."

Kate cursed herself for the tears that welled up in the back of her eyes. If she kept them closed long enough, they could stay there. She unerringly grabbed the couch for support—and in no figurative sense—her knees felt weak. What he said felt like a punch to Beckett's stomach, like the air had been knocked out of her and she was fighting to get it back.

"I tried to give it my all, Josh. I tried. I'm sorry that I wasn't enough."

"I know you did. And it's not about that. It's..." he trailed off, leaving Beckett more puzzled. "It's complicated."

"Complicated enough that I don't deserve to know?" Beckett got her voice back. "Stop beating around the bush. I've had _enough_. What is this _really_ about? Is it because we don't get to see each other every waking moment of every single day? Or because we don't get to have enough time to catch a movie on the weekends because we're both too busy helping other people?"

Josh shook his head, his hand scrubbing his jaw. His eyes were perplexed and unsure.

"No, it's..." he sighed again. "I don't know—"

"—for christ sakes, Josh, _spit it out._ I'm through guessing and playing mind games with you! I deserve better than this."

"Kate, do you think if this was about _time_, that I would break up with you?" Josh asked, sounding exasperated. "If time was the issue here, trust me, I would quit my _job_ just to spend time with you. To make up for time loss is not easy, but it can be done."

Beckett stared at him, waiting for what he was going to say next.

"But to make you feel something that wasn't there to begin with—it's impossible."

"I didn't agree to be your girlfriend if I didn't have feelings for you, Josh! C'mon, I'm not that kind of person. I wanted you as much as you wanted me and—" She got cut off by Josh shaking his head.

"No, you're wrong. I wanted you _more_. I chased after you, Kate. I did everything I could possibly do to get into your good graces."

"So what are you saying?" Beckett demanded. "That I didn't do enough in this relationship? And this is why it failed?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Kate," Josh said, drawing his words out carefully as if his patience was wearing thin.

"I was in this relationship _with_ you. I gave us a chance, and I wanted us to happen—"

"—_Kate, I love you._ I love you, okay?"

Beckett stared at him open-mouthed, not finding the right words to compete with that.

"Maybe if I had told you that earlier, it wouldn't have gone this far. But just like you, I was _scared_ of what could happen if I said it too early and now, we'll never know. But I love you. I love you so much."

Josh took a few steps towards Beckett, and she was too flabbergasted to tell him to keep his distance. But in some way, it's like he understood not to stand so close, because he stopped halfway.

"Can you honestly tell me right now that you love me, Kate?"

He sounded distant and despondent, his voice soft. His dejected eyes looked into Beckett's searchingly, but she was completely struck and couldn't formulate a single, comprehensive thought yet.

Josh took her silence as a no, and he nodded resignedly. "It's okay. At least now I know." He looked down on the floor as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"This isn't fair." Beckett responded, her voice octaves higher. "You making me decide how much I feel for you, Josh—this isn't fair."

"It's just a simple question, Kate."

"I care about you. Shouldn't that be enough?" She shot back angrily. Kate didn't know whether she be angered or disgusted with his attitude. She understood that he was trying to make a point, and trying to get her to see his side—but he was making it arduous than it should be.

"Kate, as long as _he's_ around, you'll never love me. You'll never learn to." Josh said dismally, his voice dropping to a level of what sounded like acceptance to Beckett.

She had no idea who he was referring to—though what he said did strike her—but she was bent on telling Josh off that _nobody_ told her what she could and couldn't do. Kate Beckett was her own person.

"You don't know what I'm capable of feeling. You _clearly_ don't know, so. back. the. hell off." For the pause in between those words, she felt her chest clenching in both emotional and physical pain.

"You might not understand this now, but all I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And when I realized that I can't be the reason for your happiness, I wasn't going to stick around to interfere with the one person that is."

Beckett hated him. She hated him for giving up on her.

"This is pathetic." She spat out angrily.

"Castle can give you that, Kate." Josh proceeded, ignoring her anger. "He's the guy who's going to make your dreams come true and he's the person you're going to love back."

That echo of admission in Josh's voice, the way he was taking her in circles—everything. This was about Castle all along.

And then it dawned on Beckett.

She remembered the first part of her conversation with Josh, mentally kicking herself for not discerning this sooner. Beckett could feel the onslaught of hurt coming back again. But this time it hit closer to home. It pierced her heart deeper.

How could Castle hurt her like this?

"Castle knew."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and the more Kate said it aloud, the more she believed it.

"He's a good guy. It's not his fault. Please, Kate, listen to me. Castle's good for you." Josh pleaded. "I know what I'm saying, okay? Castle should hate _me_—I don't know why he doesn't, but I can see that he really cares about you, Kate. He made me look good in front of you, when in fact, he could've ruined me right there and then. It speaks about the kind of person he is."

Beckett was just at loss for words. Her head was spinning and she just didn't know what to do anymore.

Before Josh could say another word, Beckett shook her head tiredly, silencing him. "I don't need you or anyone else to tell me about who Castle is, because I know. So please, _stop_. Just stop."

She turned around, finding her backbone, and walked to the door. Kate wanted to get out of there. She felt so empty and sick of herself, of Josh, of everyone. There was nothing left for her here.

Josh didn't try and stop her as she laid a heavy hand on the cold, brass knob, clutching it until her knuckles turned white.

Kate Beckett couldn't be strong anymore.

With tears shining in her eyes, she turned around to look at the place she had once considered home, a place where she felt happy and safe, and the man she had given her heart to, but had now shattered it to pieces.

"You had no right." Beckett said in a whisper.

Josh looked up in surprise.

"You had no right to let Castle do your dirty work and let _him_ tell me what you were too chicken to say."

Then Beckett flung the door open and threw herself out to the hallway, the tears she had so tightly held back now streaming down her face freely. She didn't even bother to wipe them away. Whatever pride she had left wasn't worth protecting.

Her vision blurred, her body numb. Kate didn't know what to do.

She just ran.


	5. It's not over tonight

**Author's Note: **Keep the reviews coming! Thanks so much for your feedbacks. I hope this chapter is as powerful as the last one.

* * *

><p>She had no recollection of how she arrived in the brightly lit hallway and the expensive carpeting she had stumbled upon. Beckett felt dizzy, her steps staggering as she inched forward. Every step was too heavy, every step antagonistic.<p>

There was this nauseating feeling that made her want to throw up, but she couldn't. And all she was left with was a bitter taste in her mouth.

Beckett crossed an air vent, and the frosty draft landed on her face. She could feel the tear tracks that had dried up on her face but had no intention of cleaning it off. In fact, doing anything to fix herself seemed futile to Beckett.

What was the use?

Every shred of pride and control that she perfected—and what she once thought was untouchable—had completely left her. And Kate was entangled in a mess of attempting to get it back.

Just thinking of how much she lost tonight shook her core, and she gasped, pausing in the hallway to catch her breath. Her hair fell over her eyes and before she could collect even a little part of herself, splotches of tears landed on her jeans. It soaked her hair quickly, and Kate leaned her head back, groaning softly.

She forcibly opened her eyes, the stinging sensation barely fazing her already unstable state. The repulsion she felt was no longer directed at Josh or at Castle. Kate was revolted at herself—for dealing with her emotions so poorly. Tonight had taken a toll on her and she hung her head down in shame for allowing herself to feel this way.

Beckett felt that tonight, she lost more than her relationship with Josh. She lost so much more and this tormented her every second.

She slapped a hand across her cheek violently, feeling a lone tear travel down her face. She couldn't take this anymore. This wasn't who she was—now she had no idea who to be. Because resilient Beckett? The Beckett that kept her head high? The Beckett who kept her voice even in the times of impasse?

That Beckett was gone.

She lost herself. Her very being. She felt n_aked_; stripped of everything she had. And Kate didn't know who else to be. This time, there was no backup plan. Either she pull herself together or she stay an emotional wreck.

Right now, she wanted to remain the latter. Because if she tried to get back on her feet and fail _again_—she couldn't relive the disappointment. She just couldn't anymore.

And so with the wall to stabilize her, Beckett shuffled towards the isolated door ahead of her.

The longest journey ever; which in reality had only taken mere seconds, Kate stood in front of that door and summoned all the tenacity she could only imagine. She slammed her hand against the door hard, repeating the action several times and resulted with her right hand throbbing.

The seconds that no one came to answer seemed like decades to Beckett, and she pounded on the door once again. Then the reticence of the hall was disturbed by the rattling of the doorknob on the other side.

"You're not the Planet Eclipse SL74 paintball gun that I ordered."

Castle said with an impish grin. He stood in the doorway, filling the space with his vast shoulders and robust arms. "I thought the plan was to meet up at five in the morning at _your_ apartment and it's still—"

"Castle, do I mean anything to you?"

"What?" He asked, still smiling, as the question had not fully sunk in yet. Castle's blue eyes roamed her face, the apparent alarm washing over him as he took in her duress. "Beckett, what's going on? What happened to you?"

"_Do I mean anything to you?_"

Beckett repeated to him, her eyes cold and her expression unreadable. Castle felt all the bliss leave him as he tried to comprehend Beckett's words, and at the same time pondered on her assault of a question.

"Beckett, wait—tell me what happened to you. Come inside, please—"

"—just answer the damn question, Rick."

Her voice fell dangerously low, and Beckett bit down on her lip. She looked at Castle's dumbfounded expression. His mouth was slightly open, and he was looking back at her in mystification.

Castle didn't argue, his hands falling to his sides. "O-Of course you mean something to me. You don't just mean _anything_ to me, Kate, you... you mean alot more to me than I let on—"

The dropping of her first name made Beckett's heart quicken but she quickly shut that thought out.

"Then how could you lie to me? How could you put me through all that?"

Castle caught on quickly, and not a trace of his jubilant behavior left on his face as he turned to Beckett. "You talked to Josh?"

"What do you think, Castle?" She snapped.

"I'm sorry..."

"Stop it! I don't wanna hear that word anymore—I've heard _enough_ of it tonight." Beckett said furiously, whamming her hand on the doorpost. This was the first time Castle witnessed Beckett so upset, but he stayed where he was and looked down on her worriedly.

She stared up at him with eyes that were filled with loathing. Looking into Castle's eyes always made her feel like she was on cloud nine. You know, with Castle, you can be anything. You can make everything in your wildest dreams come true. There was so much freedom and felicity with him.

But now there was so much hurt consumed in her that even that didn't help.

"Beckett, what happened?" He asked in a whisper.

"You lied to me, Castle—_that's_ what happened." Beckett's jaw hardened. "I trusted you. You are the only person I _completely_ opened up to and you took advantage of me. Why would you do that?" Her eyes became watery and she made no move to stop them.

Castle did this to her, and he should see what he made her become.

"The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."

His words tugged at her heart strings and Beckett looked away, a fresh course of tears falling. "You lied to my face. You knew what he was going to do and you _let_ it happen. I was made to look like a fool in front of everybody."

"I never meant to do that. Please."

"What _did_ you mean to do?" She asked, her voice wavering. "Was it payback? Because I was dating someone else? Did you do that to get back at me?"

"No! _No_, that's not it." Castle replied, looking appalled.

"Rick, I deserved the truth. Why couldn't you give me that?"

Castle suddenly grabbed on to Beckett's shoulders, pulling her towards him firmly but gently. Instinctively, she squirmed, trying to get free of him—but he latched on. He needed her to understand why he did what he did.

"I _wanted_ to, I wanted to tell you, but you deserved to hear the truth from Josh." Castle looked urgently into her eyes. "It wasn't my place to tell. God, I swear, Kate, I didn't want to hurt you. _Ever_."

Beckett's fists rested on the side of her body, not giving the herself a chance to relax. Castle's face drifted above hers. His face pained, she knew he was suffering as much as she was. But every time she started to feel lenient towards him, the burning humiliation he had indirectly caused was too much for a single blink of an eye to forget.

Beckett was hurt enough times in the past by people she thought she could trust and love and because of that, she built up this fence around herself—cautious of whom she let in. What crushed Beckett the most was that Castle knew. He knew how rigid she had become to relationships. And he was one of the people whom Beckett allowed inside her little world—opening that fence of hers and trusting him not to hurt her.

But look at what he chose to do. She couldn't take it anymore. Not from Castle.

"You joke over dead bodies at crime scenes and give taglines in a _murder_ investigation. And now you want to lecture _me_ about reverence, Castle? When did you suddenly become the man who held so much respect for himself and for others?" She lashed out.

Castle winced at her sharp words, but said nothing. "It wasn't your _place_ to tell? Castle, tell me, when did you ever get the good judgement to decide that?" Beckett brushed his hands from her heatedly. "You couldn't just _spare_ me the pain? You think I'm entitled to more after what I've been through?"

She poked his chest savagely, heaving a sigh as more tears ran down her face. "How could you put me through that? I-I thought I could rely on you... Rick, you hurt me so much... I don't know what else to do... who else to turn to..." Every hit at his chest got weaker and weaker until she finally stopped, her body quivering strongly as her cries robbed her.

Her knees buckled and she grabbed on to whatever she could hold on to. Castle quickly supported her weight and steadied her. His eyes were bleary with his own tears as her words tore him apart.

"I hate you. I hate you."

Beckett said in between her tears, pushing Castle away with force that he didn't know existed. He dithered slightly backwards, but then came right back to bring Beckett into his arms.

"I know." He grunted, wrapping his strong arms around her. "I know, Kate, and I'm sorry."

She almost felt like melting into his arms, but she stopped herself. Beckett was at the point of feeling so thwarted that she knew if she didn't do anything about it right now, she was never going to forgive herself.

Beckett pummelled her fists into his torso as hard as she could, every blow delivering the vehement hate and hurt that was flowing in her veins. "_No_. No. No, let me go, Castle. Let me go!" Her body collided with his destructively.

If he wasn't going to let her go, then she was going to make him.

Rick shut his eyes as her punches hit the right places, knocking him out of breath, almost choking for air. But he held on tighter no matter how toilsome it was beginning to feel on his body.

"You can hate me forever, and you can continue beating me up for as long as you need to." He said to her. "Break a rib, do what you want to do with me, Kate, but I am going to stay where I am. I'm not going to leave you. I'm not letting you go. _I can't let you go_. I'm here to stay. I'm here."

Her face became buried somewhere in his neck as his words took on a riveted turn. She was exhausted, completely drained of everything, but she persisted to keep him away. Castle let her down and he disappointed her. She knew what going to happen next. Beckett learned from all her experiences. Castle was going to leave and she was going to be alone again—but that's how things were supposed to happen. That's how they always happened.

Kate refused to believe that Castle would be any different.

Beckett's cries reverberated off the hallway and the walls of Castle's apartment. She scantily heard Castle's sharp intake of breath as Beckett gave him another precise hit to his liver. She could feel herself weakening at his unyielding hold, beginning to feel desperate. Beckett blindly pressed her face to his chest, incidentally taking in the prime smell that stuck to his shirt.

"I know I should have told you." Castle whispered into her hair. "You and Josh have been together for so long that I thought tonight was another petty fight. I didn't think he was serious."

She sniffled, drawing away from him. Castle softened his grip, staring at her forsakenly. His blue eyes were congested with affliction as Beckett lifted her shoulders to look at him tempestuously. "It was serious. Josh and I are through." She looked at him meaningfully.

"Just like you and I, Rick. We're over."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I'm sure we all know that Castle isn't going to give up the fight that easily. Stay tuned for Chapter 6. :)

Thoughts?


	6. Wanting it to happen won't make it so

**Author's Note: **As always, your reviews are very, very, very much appreciated. Thank you. :)

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><p>Castle stiffened, Beckett's words deafening to his ears. He'd heard it more than once, and at the end, Castle consistently conjured new ways to change her mind—and they all worked.<p>

But something made this time sound so permanent—so final. His mouth went dry as he realized that Beckett might really mean it this time. She might not want him back anymore.

Castle suddenly felt ill as his eyes flew back sharply to Beckett, who was absconding out the open door and to the hallway. He could see her flushed cheeks and the tears that unceasingly fell from her eyes. She disappeared from his sight, but he could hear her further down the hall. Castle didn't know why his feet were still fixed on the floor, but his mind was turbulently working.

He messed up lots of times before—said the wrong words, did the wrong things—and he forgave himself. Castle always felt like he failed more than the average person should, though, that was alright for him. Failure wasn't so bad once you get used to it, and of course, you learn and become better.

But if he lost Beckett for good, then Castle knew that would be the one thing he truly failed in life.

And like life heard him, Castle felt a push forward and he hurriedly ran out of his apartment, hoping he wasn't too late. He had only ran a few paces when he abruptly stopped, watching the heart wrenching scene unfold in front of him.

Beckett was on the floor with her back pinned to the wall, and her knees folded up towards her face. Her shoulders were shaking badly, and she kept her head down, her tears smothered. But to Castle, her pain was loud and clear. He caused it—just like she said. This wasn't his books and he couldn't tear out a page to erase what he'd done. He was so afraid of losing her that he almost didn't know what to do with himself.

"Just leave me alone." Beckett said. She must have heard him approaching. "Leave me alone, Castle. Please. I just want to be alone."

Castle walked to Beckett, aching to touch her in the hopes that she would at least fathom his actions. But he knew that it wasn't the best time to do that and maybe a little space could help ease her—Castle wanted nothing more than for her to be okay.

He shrank against the wall across from her, slowly sliding down as he assumed the same position. "You can't ask me to do that, Kate. I'm sorry. I know it's selfish but I can't... I can't leave you alone. I'll always be here for you even if you don't want me around."

After a minute of no response, Castle began to fret all over again. He needed her to say something. Just _something_. He waited quietly, staring at her fetal form. He gave up trying to talk to her after approximately twenty minutes of absolute silence. Castle rested his chin on top of his knee anxiously, his foot digging deep into the carpet. She stayed still for the rest of the time that he stared watching her.

And the night went on.

**xxx**

Castle closed the refrigerator, the door gasket bouncing lightly back. He felt safe that the noise level coming from that wasn't too loud.

He spread out his good hand, while clutching the ice pack in between his other arm. The thin material his shirt was made off made it easy for the melting ice cubes to permeate, sending shivers down the back of his spine. Ignoring the numbness that had started, he stepped forward carefully as his hand touched a hard, flat surface.

Castle was aware that what he was doing was damaging to his eyes. But he could live with that.

It was five in the morning, and he had intended on sleeping in, honestly. His sleep had been disturbed several times tonight alone. His entire torso had begun hurting in different places, some of them so pitiless that he had to take pain killers to stop himself from literally convulsing on his couch. Every part of him hurt immensely.

So with hazy eyesight and precarious legs, he got up and moved to his kitchen to grab an ice pack. And this was where he was now, struggling to see clearly in the dim kitchen and being very vigilant not to make noises—as to not disturb the inhabitants of his apartment.

Castle groped his high chair, easing himself onto it carefully. Lifting his shirt, he slowly pushed the ice pack towards his stomach area, where he felt most of the tenderness. It felt like years to him when he finally felt the freezing air come in contact with his skin.

You know that feeling when you know what's coming and you prepare yourself for it? But when it does come, it still creeps up to you and bites you in the ass.

And the next thing that happened was Castle biting down on his tongue sharply to keep a shriek from escaping his mouth as he pressed the ice pack to his bruises. God, it was so cold. And it hurt like hell.

Oh, the irony.

After a while of getting used to it, Castle's problem was now _where_ to put the ice pack. Because he only had one stocked, and it felt like every inch of his body was aching. Maybe he shouldn't have had encouraged Beckett earlier, because damn, she gave him a good beating.

When the discomfort to his left subsided, he transferred the ice pack to his upper right, where she had hit him the hardest. Then as he began to breathe in deeply, he sensed a metallic taste swimming in his mouth.

Great, he must have chewed his tongue off in the process of trying to keep quiet. Now what was he going to do? Throwing an ice cube into his mouth and letting it swirl around just seemed disgusting.

Whatever he planned on doing, he had to do it fast. The sink was too far away, but there was a roll of tissue paper within his arm's reach. So he took that, tore a big chunk from it, and spit the blood out.

Choosing to ignore the residue that he could still taste, Castle turned his attention to something pleasing and relaxing to stare at—something that could distract him from his adversity.

He was appreciative of the little rays of sunlight that sneaked into his living room, allowing him to see better. Castle looked down; his stomach glistening from the water the ice pack had transferred.

Castle almost got what he wanted—relishing in the soothing silence his place didn't always have, oblivious to the temperature he was exposing his body to—until his phone's shrilly default ringtone pierced the serenity he needed. He dropped the ice pack to the floor in surprise, hurriedly reaching inside his pocket to stop the incessant sound.

He read the caller ID before silencing the compact death machine and putting it to his ear. "Alexis? What's wrong?"

"_Hey, dad."_

"Are you okay? What happened?" Castle whispered, immediately thinking of the worst. Why else would his daughter be calling him at this time of the day?

"_What? I'm fine."_

"Really? Are you sure?"

"_Yeah. Dad, why are we whispering?" _

Castle just noticed the hush tones his daughter was speaking with. "Oh. You don't have to whisper if... if you don't feel like whispering. It's totally fine. I just feel the urge to talk softly right now."

"_Okay, then. Is everything okay?"_

"I'll be asking the questions here, young lady. It is five in the morning—what are you doing up?"

"_Five thirty-one."_

"Alexis, did you sneak off with your friends from the sleepover and join some college dorm party, get yourself drunk and now you want me to come pick you up?"

"_Dad, are you serious?"_ Alexis chuckled. _"No, I'm here at Caitlin's still. We've all been here the entire night. Come on, dad, you know me. I'm not the type."_

"Then why do you sound like you're wide awake?"

"_Because I am. Dad, nobody sleeps at sleepovers. It's a known fact. We read magazines, we paint our nails, do our make-up, watch movies, talk about boys..." _

The last part nearly worried him. Just a little.

"_... basically stuff like that. Some of the girls are raiding the fridge and right now we're picking another movie to watch."_

"So if nothing's wrong, then why did you call?" He asked. "Not that I'm complaining. You know that I love talking to you, Alexis."

"_I just felt really happy. It's been a really fun night and I wanted to tell you about it. Besides, I miss you, dad."_

"I miss you too, daughter." Castle replied affectionately.

"_It was especially fun when some guys from school crashed the sleepover and—"_

"—boys? Wait, I thought it was only for girls?"

"_Relax; Caitlin's parents kicked them out even before they got to eat out of our popcorn bowl. But it was pretty funny."_

"Good. I like Caitlin's parents."

Alexis laughed on the other line. _"I'm sure you do, dad."_

"How'd you even know I'd be awake?" Castle asked, continuing his whispers.

"_I didn't. I was just lucky... or you were totally worried about me so you stayed up because you couldn't wait to see your favorite daughter—or at least hear her voice."_

He smiled. "You got the favorite part right. But I didn't stay up. I just came down to the kitchen to get some water."

"_Whatever you say. Hey, dad, we're about to start the movie but when I get back, do you want to do something together?" _

"No date with Ashley now?" Castle teased.

"_He's on vacation with his parents. I'd rather spend time with the coolest dad in New York, though."_

"Very well said, Alexis. What do you want to do?"

"_Laser tag seems so safe. I wanna try something else. Dad, didn't you order a paintball gun?"_

"Paintball set."

"_I stand corrected. Can we do that, dad? Please?" _

"Of course we can! My magnificent guns of fury will arrive shortly, I hope. Probably in time for you to get home. By then, you must prepare yourself for the hell that I shall unleash upon you and your helpless soul."

"_Yes! I love you, dad. I can't wait."_

"I love you too, sweetie."

"_But, dad, if you and Detective Beckett have a case to work on, it's okay if we do it some other time. When you're free. I mean, what you do is important."_

The mention of her name brought back fresh memories for Castle, but he didn't feel the need to bring it up with Alexis. What happened was between the two of them and it should stay that way. At least for now.

"Oh, you know, I—I wouldn't worry about that too much, Alexis. You can count on the chance that I won't be putting off any more dates with you."

There was silence on Alexis' end. "Alexis? Are you there?"

"_I really love you, dad. Do you know that?"_

Castle closed his eyes, letting his daughter's words comfort him. Sometimes, there's not really more you can ask from the relationship Castle had with Alexis. He knew that he can be childish and daft—not really the kind of guy you want playing the responsible father figure—but he had the best daughter in the world and however that turned out, he was going to be eternally thankful for who she is.

"I always knew but thanks for letting me know once in awhile. And I love you more."

He heard her giggling. _"See you soon, dad. They're trying to take away my phone."_

"Alright. Break some rules, O Perfect One."

"_Bye!"_

Castle placed his phone down on the counter, the conversation with Alexis definitely brightening up his day. He leaned over and picked up the dripping ice pack from the floor. Rendering it useless, he dumped it in the trash and used an old washcloth to wipe the small pool of water it left on the floor.

He almost slipped and landed on his broken wrist, but he found his footing and steadied himself before things got ugly. The cast did hit the counter lightly though, and Castle waited for the excruciating pain that would shoot through his body like bolts of lightning but he remembered that it was exactly why the cast was there over his wrist—protection from blows.

So he shrugged himself off, and looked out to the clutter he had contrived the night last night, before Beckett showed up. He was trying to spark the inspiration that he knew was somewhere cached in the depths of his mind. And to help him with that was tons of food and doodling. He got to write twenty-two pages, which was okay in his book.

He knew he could write more pages with no problem, but he had been distracted and his train of thought was just under reconstruction. It wasn't from Beckett—all night after arriving home, he just couldn't decide what to do with what Josh had told him.

_Now_, he should've done the obvious, even if he didn't comply fully with it. You know, he could have avoided Beckett coming down on him like that.

It was his fault. Castle understood that.

He sighed heavily, mentally bashing himself for all the stupidity he chose to do. It was too early in the morning to be upset or angry so he tried to leave those feelings in the dark a little more.

Castle went over to the table to gather his things, while he mulled quietly about his decisions. He wiped his laptop down and snatched up the empty chocolate bar wrappers with his fingers—the only part that he could use, because the rest of his arm was covered in hard plaster.

Castle was coming back from the kitchen, and made his way to his dishevelled looking couch. He had slept on it last night after the tiring day. He propped up the pillows, and folded the blanket swiftly as if he always did laundry and the folding.

"Beckett." He said, when he looked up and saw her descending the stairs.

She was wearing the same clothes, except they were wrinkled from sleep. And her hair was in a disarray, but somehow it still looked good on her. Beckett looked like she washed up before coming down, but the weariness in her face was still present. She stepped down from the bottom step, did a sweeping eye contact with him and touching her hair consciously, asked,

"What happened?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but she shook her head instead. "Uhm, no, forget it. Don't answer that. How—how did I end up in your bed?"

Castle set the pillow down carefully, trying to look her in the eyes.

"You passed out." He answered. "You don't remember?" Castle asked, seeing her confused expression.

She shook her head. "No. But then again, there are alot of things that I wish I could forget."

"We were out in the hallway. You wanted me to leave you alone, and I couldn't do that. So I stayed with you."

No response.

"Did I wake you?" Castle tried again.

"No, uhm," she hesitated. "When I woke up, my face felt clean. Did you..."

"Yeah. I did. After I-I put you to bed last night, I took a damp cloth and wiped away the, uh, dried tears."

Beckett looked up at him alarmingly, finally meeting his waiting eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I slept down here." Castle directed to the folded and arranged linens.

Silence.

Beckett wasn't a person of few words, but she didn't talk excessively either. Right now, though, Castle despised the awkward intervals in between their sentences. They didn't have _this_—they didn't have uncomfortable moments, they didn't try to avoid eye contact, and they certainly didn't have any real feeling of hatred at each other.

But now everything's changed for the worst, leaving Castle depressed and doubtful of everything that he did.

"If you're hungry, I can make breakfast—"

"Castle. Don't start."

She sounded resigned and she rubbed her temples, looking very fatigued. Castle was dumbstruck, nervously running his hand up and down his cast. He just wished she'd forgive him. He knew it was easier said than done on her part. Castle wanted to remain positive that everything would turn out okay.

Still, the self assurance was not powerful enough to overcome the feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was not going to end the way he had hoped it would.

"I have to go." She immediately said, turning to the direction of the door.

And Castle lost it.

"Kate, please."

He would have stopped her at the door except she froze in her tracks, her shoulders raised and stiff. She turned around and looked at Castle painfully.

"I know that I said some things last night that was hard for you to hear. But you still took me in even after that so... thanks. I really have to go."

"That's it?" He raised his voice.

"Listen, Rick, I may not understand why you did what you did now, but someday I will. Right now, I just need to be alone. There are some things that I want to figure out and answer about myself, about relationships, about... life."

"Does that mean we can't see each other anymore?"

"Until that day comes, I can't—I can't be around you just yet. We both need time apart. It just... it has to happen."

Castle felt his throat closing up. "How do I know you'll take me back? That we'll be okay?"

Beckett looked away from him tearfully. "I don't know, Rick. I don't know."

He took a step forward. "Kate."

"I want you to know that I'm thankful for everything that you've done. For everything that we've gone through together. The memories. Everything." She began, backing into the door. "There is so much I want to say to you... I just—thank you so much. I'll never forget what we shared."

Beckett jerked the door open before Castle could insert another word in. The pain in his torso started again, though he couldn't decipher whether it was psychological or not. He literally fell on his couch, stunned. He couldn't believe it. It was over. They were over. It's final.

Tell her you love her. Tell her, Castle.

Give her a reason to stay.

Make her stay.

But Castle couldn't move. He was on the brink of giving up _and_ on the edge of racing after Beckett and forcing her to take him back. It was all too surreal.

His fingers pinched the fabric of the couch, and his nails penetrated the rough cloth. Castle had never felt this angry or this disconcerted before. It was like he did everything that he thought was right. If he didn't do his best according to some people, then he tried to do the best he could possibly do. He was different now; a changed person from who he was years ago. He wasn't as shallow as he used to be, and he actually cared for Beckett more deeply than he ever cared for any _other_ woman in his life.

And he couldn't understand why even after becoming a better person—trusting that the outcome will be beneficial to everyone—Castle now lost the one person who always believed in him.

He glowered at the wall straight ahead of him and wished that a hole would open up underneath him and swallow him whole. There was just no fixing what he was feeling right now.

Castle wanted to punch a wall, break some things, and scream at the top of his lungs. But he had no energy or life to do any of that. He was dragged down by the recent events, in denial of what Beckett said. He didn't want to believe it. He just didn't.

Castle snapped out of his reverie as his apartment door rattled. Thinking it was Beckett coming back; he stood up, his breathing coming in fast. But when he saw the short, red hair that popped inside the room and the heels that were glittered with plastic diamonds and emeralds, he sank back down on the couch, burying his face in his hands.

"Richard?" He heard her heels clicking on the floor. "Ah, it is you. You know what, I had a fantastic evening with my old friends. We were all catching up and sharing stories. It felt very—"

"Mother," Castle said plainly, wanting her to be quiet and at the same time wanting to get her advice. Either way, his head was going to continue to pitpat an irregular beat.

"Oh, quiet for a second. Now before you start reprimanding me about not coming home last night, I'd just like to remind you that I was perfectly in control of myself. I only had six glasses of wine—no, eight—but we all spent a civilized time together." Martha blathered. "By the way, I saw Kate in the elevator. Looks like she slept in her clothes..." Castle's vivacious and ever supportive mother did a little dance towards him, a malicious glint in her eyes.

"Mother," Castle repeated, his eyes starting to water.

Martha broke off her jig as she looked at her son's dismayed face. "Darling, what's the matter?"

He ran his hands through his hair vigorously, resisting the incentive to grab all his hair out.

"I messed up. I messed up really bad." His knee jittered up and down rapidly. "And now she's gone."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Hi guys, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in days. School just started and I've been trying to find the time to do so and it's only been tonight that I got the extra minutes. Again, sorry.

Sooo, this is a longer chapter. The longest, I think. And well, the ending's not really a cliffhanger. Anyways, do you want me to leave at that and just let your imaginations run wild about what's going to happen next? Or do you want me to continue or something?

Let me know what you want.

And tell me what you think about this chapter. :)


	7. She let her have it

**Author's Note: **I would just like to say that this is my first fanfic and I am loving all the reviews whether it be positive or negative! I really need the honest feedback because that will help me in improving my writing. So thank you once again to everyone who read and reviewed my story. :D

* * *

><p>Beckett carefully swung her legs out to the sidewalk, letting her heels hit the pavement before pulling herself out of the car. She then had to lean back in to get her tall cup of coffee from the drink holder.<p>

Ryan had called her while she was taking a shower about a dead body at the children's playground in a nearby park.

She could see Lanie, Ryan and Esposito up ahead, yellow tapes encircling the crime scene. Beckett walked her first few steps with no problem, until she drew closer to them and her right heel suddenly sank into soft ground.

The only thought she had was the coffee spilling on an old, but favorite shirt that she was wearing. She stretched her coffee-armed hand out—at least if it spilled, it would be on her hand and not anywhere else.

But Beckett got past that quickly, since the cup didn't notice the minor mishap she was in and stayed still. Problem number two was how to get her shoe free.

She started pulling her leg up, and resulting in Beckett almost losing her balance and falling flat on her face. So she took a deep breath, and tried not to feel embarrassed as members of the Crime Scene Unit looked at her curiously. Beckett felt a sturdy hand steady her, and she looked up at Esposito's grinning face.

"You look like you could need some help with... with that."

"Yes, that would be really nice right now." Beckett replied sarcastically and leaned on him for support. After literally being lifted off the ground by Esposito, her shoe finally came off in one piece, though she was fuming at how little things like that got in her way. "Did it rain last night or something? The ground's wet."

"Sprinklers." Ryan joined them, a notepad in his hand. "They come on automatically at four in the morning and at eight in the evening. Our vic here has traces of the sprinkler water on him, so he was dumped here probably in between that timeline."

Beckett's eyebrows shot up. "That's a big window." She stepped in front of them, seeing Lanie work over the body, collecting evidence.

Lanie looked at the detective and smiled. "Didn't find his wallet or any form of identification anywhere on him, so he's a John Doe until the system can identify his prints." She raised his shirt and revealed his stomach. "No bruising. No blows to the head. No stab wounds. No gunshot wounds. Now, I apologize for being repetitive, but if only he wasn't dead, I'd say he was a perfectly healthy man in his early thirties."

"What about strangulation? If he was dumped here recently, it could mean he was killed not long ago too. The bruising wouldn't show until later, right?"

"I'll look into that." Lanie nodded. "His pockets have been turned inside out, and the back of his shirt is torn. Could be a robbery gone wrong."

Beckett looked around the isolated area. "Doesn't seem to be a crime of opportunity. Besides, what would he be doing at this part of the park?" She gestured with her hands. "There's nothing here."

"Time of death, Lanie?" Beckett asked. "His liver temp isn't telling me anything. The body's been exposed to the weather overnight and other natural factors so I'll have to make sure nothing was altered. Then I'll give you his final time of death."

Beckett nodded and turned to Ryan and Esposito. "Who found the body?"

"Kid living at the apartment across your car." Ryan answered and looked down on his notebook. "He said he took his dog out for a walk like he does every morning, but this time he dropped the leash and the dog bounded here. He chased his pet here, and found the body."

"Did you talk to him?" Beckett asked.

"Yup. Poor boy was shaken up about the whole thing."

Beckett stepped away from the body and stood closer to the other detectives. "What time was the body discovered?"

"Six forty-five."

"So the killer was long gone by that time."

"Detectives, there's something here." A member of the Crime Scene Unit called out. He was kneeling over the shrubs. Beckett hurriedly walked to him, avoiding the soft dirt as much as she could. He held up a gray fabric with a part of a letter sewn on it.

Beckett hurriedly put her latex gloves on, taking the new evidence found in her hand. "Where did you find it exactly?"

"It was attached to one of the shrubs. Looks like it could be part of someone's clothing."

She nodded. "Thank you. Hey, Ryan, Esposito—what do you make of this?"

Esposito stood beside her and leaned closer to scrutinize the fabric. "Could be from our vic's shirt."

"Nope." Ryan barged in, taking Beckett's left side. "Our John Doe is wearing the same color, but that fabric is darker and..." he gripped the small piece with his fingers. "... thicker."

Beckett felt her nose twitching to a strong smell and she realized that it was coming from the fabric she was holding. "Guys, what is that smell?"

"That's the same smell uniforms described when they arrived at the scene. It's from the sprinklers. The water's laced with chemicals that give off this kind of smell." Esposito explained.

"So this fabric was here when the sprinklers were on and when our dead body arrived. Either this has been here long before our guy was dumped or this is from the killer. Have CSU bag and tag this." She instructed to Ryan. "Have them run some tests for DNA. Also, try and figure out what that letter from the shirt means."

"On it." Ryan took the fabric from her palm and went off to do as she said.

Kate looked around the immediate area and tried to look for clues that could aid the investigation. There were groups of trees up ahead but they looked deserted too. There was a fountain somewhere down the same path but she doubted the killer would go so deep into the woods; unless he didn't know where he was going.

If he knew the area well enough, he could have left the same way Beckett entered—out to the road. But like Beckett thought, it can get pretty dark here at night. And you add that with a secluded area like this... anything can happen.

"Okay, so our killer could have left at two exits." She said, speaking to Esposito.

"Right, out to the road or down there." Esposito finished.

Beckett nodded. "None of those exits are covered because it's too open for the public. Anyone could go in and out of here without anyone looking twice. That just made our jobs harder."

"Especially since there's no blood or anything our killer could have tracked."

"Are there any cameras surrounding the exits?" Beckett asked. Esposito looked down on his notepad. "The apartment has a doorman so they chose that option over the security cameras but still, I could talk to him. Maybe he saw someone running out of here."

"Okay, good."

"There's also an internet cafe right beside the apartment and if I'm not wrong, I think there's a camera at their doors. I'll double check."

"Thanks, Esposito." Beckett smiled. "Let me know if there are any witnesses."

Beckett turned around to observe the body again just as Lanie reached into his front pocket. "Was he killed here, or was this just a body dump?" she asked the medical examiner.

"Lividity just started to set in and from the looks of it, he was killed here. To my frustration, I can't identify COD just yet but the bruising on the back of his arms and legs suggest he was in this position when he took his last breath."

"So how do you struggle with someone and result to that," Beckett gestured to the torn clothing the unidentified victim was wearing. "And kill a person without cutting him up or shooting him?"

Lanie shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, sweetie."

Kate put her hand on her waist and thought hard. "It doesn't look like his neck's been snapped, doesn't it?"

"From what I can tell, all of his bones are intact." Lanie replied. "I'll definitely know more at the post."

"So if this is the primary crime scene and not a body dump as we first assumed, then it was the sprinklers that went off at four this morning that soaked the body. Which means our vic was killed about..." she trailed off and glanced at Lanie.

"Ballpark would be about four to six hours ago."

Beckett nodded and remembered the cup of coffee in her hand. She could hear the liquid sloshing inside as she brought it up. She made a face, realizing that the coffee had gone cold in under ten minutes. There goes her five dollars. Beckett vowed to never opt for Starbucks just because her body was screaming for caffeine in the morning.

"Are you going to share that coffee with me or what?" Lanie asked her, laughing.

"It's cold. Sorry." She chuckled apologetically.

"Trashcan is to your right." Lanie advised. Beckett spotted the green container. "Don't spill your coffee on my body!"

"I won't." Beckett grinned. She grudgingly threw her coffee into the trash bin, more than annoyed at the waste of money and good coffee. It sucked to have to buy your own coffee—especially since she got used to having someone bring her one every morning... Beckett sighed inwardly, nullifying that thought of him immediately.

She'd gone on weeks without him by her side and she survived. She could do it. She could live without him. You know, she was well-off before he came along. She was fine. She was living her life _just_ fine. She didn't need Richard Castle.

"I wonder how many times a day you keep telling yourself of that and fail." Beckett heard Lanie's voice behind her.

She met her face, and blinked. "What did you say?"

Did Beckett just say that out loud? Holy shift, did she? How many people heard her? How could that happen? She swore she was just thinking it. Oh my god. She said his name. In public. Crap.

Lanie's easy smile spread on her face. "I mean, Starbucks has damn good coffee but if you keep buying it every day, you're going broke, Kate. And not to mention you're going to mourn for it once it's in the trash."

Beckett felt her palpitating heart slow down and her lips parted in relief. When did she ever get so jumpy?

"I know. I know. Last time." Beckett quickly answered, smiling back.

She muttered an excuse to Lanie so she could look somewhere else. That would give her enough time to stall and to let the redness on her face to be less conspicuous. Beckett ran her fingers through her hair and breathed in deeply.

When she looked upward, the sun inescapably blinded her for the moment and Beckett moved aside under a tree's shade.

For some reason she found herself look up again, and this time something shiny caught her eye. There was rectangular shaped object that bounced the sunlight off its back. She put a hand over her face to get a clearer view of the object that was attached to the side of the building.

"Beckett, got anything?" Ryan asked, walking towards her from Lanie's direction. Beckett nodded back distractedly. "Yeah, I think so. There's a camera right there on that building. Did you see that before?"

Ryan looked up, squinting, and then shook his head. "It's not visible from where we were standing earlier but I could have thought to check this part."

"It's okay. That makes _three_ exits for our killer to choose from. Update Esposito on that, would you?" Beckett said. "Who owns the building?"

"Uhm, as of right now the bank is holding it because the original owner of the building and lot was behind on his bills."

"We're going to need access to the tapes. There's a chance our killer's face could be on it."

"Think it's even attached to anything?" Ryan asked skeptically, drawing closer to the building. "Camera looks old, like it hasn't been taken care of for weeks."

Kate shrugged. "Why else would you put a camera up around here if it was a fake? What or who would you hope to scare off?"

He suddenly snapped his fingers. "Vandalism. There have been reports of kids tagging buildings around this part of the city. And this building has been abandoned for the last five months—it's the perfect place these kids would be after. It'll be like a goldmine to them." Ryan told Beckett. "The bank would have wanted to keep this building in great shape just incase the owner couldn't pay up and then they could offer a deal to a new buyer."

"The walls look bare to me." Beckett replied.

"Must be working."

"It's still worth a shot. Look, there are wires running up the side. They must lead to something."

"Yep, I'll go check it out."

"Thanks, Ryan. I'm going to go back to the precinct with the body."

**xxx**

"Those the recordings from the internet cafe?" Beckett asked Esposito later at the precinct when they had all arrived. She placed a hand behind his chair and watched the slow-moving, black and white recording.

He nodded. "Sure is."

"What did the doorman say?"

"He said he saw nothing suspicious around the time of the murder and he can't remember anyone leaving that area. But, he admitted to me a little later that he fell asleep a number of times during his shift." He answered. "Shouldn't take too long for me to sift through the videos. We've got our timeline narrowed down."

"Right. But the, uh, the camera's view is a little obscured." Beckett pointed out. "What is that covering the side of the frame?"

She noticed a semisolid substance on the left side. Esposito sighed heavily and shook his head. Beckett turned to him; he was looking gloomily at the screen. "What's the matter?" she asked in concern.

"Damn birds." He muttered. "Their droppings covered like half of the camera's view. Not to mention the quality isn't CIA approved. My eyes are starting to hurt from the bad copy. And it's not colored. It's like a silent movie from the stone age."

Beckett laughed and patted a hand on his back. "Silence speaks louder than anything. Don't worry, if you crack this case open, I'll be sure to let Lanie know and maybe the two of you can catch a movie and pizza in the break room." She said, teasing him.

"That aint funny, Beckett."

"Yeah?" she grinned. "Then why are you smiling?"

"I'm not." Esposito scoffed. "Why don't you move your pretty self and bother Ryan now?"

"Hey! Don't drag me into this—I'm just doing what I need to be doing." Ryan looked up from his desk. He was watching footage too. Beckett was still laughing as she moved to the hardworking and blue-eyed detective. "How's it going with the footage from the abandoned building?"

"Ah, well, it's pretty boring. Like we thought, nobody passes by that area so all I'm getting are bunnies moving down the path and the occasional race of leaves floating around. But anyways, it's colored and I bet the quality's a million times better than what Javi's watching—"

"—don't rub it in, Honey Milk." Esposito glared at him.

Beckett chuckled. "It would be safe to say that the first person who comes into frame is our killer." Ryan joked.

"Do we know who our victim is yet?" She asked the two detectives.

"Dr. Parish hasn't sent up the fingerprints but Ryan and I can multitask and look through facial recognition while waiting. We might get lucky."

"Okay. I'll be down with Lanie if you need me."

**xxx**

"Hey, girl, didn't get started on the autopsy yet." Lanie said to Beckett when she entered the room. She looked at her apologetically.

"My vic isn't the only one around. It's fine." Beckett smiled. "Just wondering if you were able to get started on his prints."

"_That_, I was able to do. I was just about to send it up to you guys." Lanie approached her computer. "Your vic is no longer a John Doe. His name is Louie Shapiro, he's thirty-eight years old and lives on the upper west side. I'll send his complete background information to your inbox."

"Thanks. Priors?"

"None. Mr. Shapiro is clean. Not even a parking ticket on his record." Lanie replied, taking her gloves off and throwing them in the trash box beside her. She scrolled down the page. "I found his prints in the system but they weren't there because of a criminal record. He's a teacher at Stephen Gaynor School."

"When did teachers start to get fingerprinted to get the job?" Beckett asked, surprised.

"I don't know, but it is a private school. You know how wealthy parents are overprotective of their children. It must be a precaution that the school had to take on."

"Well, they sure upped the standards." Kate commented. "Anything else, Lanie?"

"I found his wedding ring in his front pocket." She handed over the evidence plastic with the gold band inside. "He wasn't wearing it?"

Lanie shook her head. "Nope. If our killer wanted to take it with him, he missed it."

Beckett took it. "Thanks."

"There's an inscription inside. L.S love J.S."

Kate smiled sadly. "Someone out there is a widow and they don't even know it yet."

She took out her phone and called Ryan.

"_Go for Ryan."_ He said when he picked up.

"The usual introduction wasn't enough for you?"

"_Oh, Beckett. Nah, I'm just looking for some fun while I'm going through the footage. Do you like it?"_

"Sure. It's new and different. We got a name. Louie Shapiro. Inform his wife of what happened and ask the usual questions."

"_Louie Shapiro. Got it. You want in on the interview?"_

"I think I'll sit this one out. Tell me how it goes."

"_Okay. Bye."_

Beckett hung up and leaned on an empty slab. "Do you mind the company?"

"A living person in here with me is a blessing. I don't mind at all, hon."

Beckett randomly played with her fingers, grateful for the passing silence that they were sharing. It's the thing about women—they can shut up at all the right moments and they don't keep pressing you for answers or reasons. Sometimes they just understand what's going on without you saying anything.

There wasn't anything in particular that she wanted to talk about with Lanie. Beckett just felt like hanging out with the only other woman on the team. Both of them had been so caught up in work that the only time they get to talk was when it was about the case they were on.

She missed the pointless topics and the juicy gossip.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Lanie asked softly.

"About what?"

One long look at Lanie's face and she understood. She hid a groan for her friend, but she couldn't hold back the hurt expression on her face. "No. I don't want to talk about him. It's useless. Let's talk about something else."

"Kate,"

"I know you're only being a good friend, Lanie, and I swear to god, you are. But I can't do this. Okay? Not right now."

"Not now or not ever?" She asked simply.

"I'm trying to bury it. It's in the past."

"It's not going to matter how deep that hole is. You are not over Castle and as long as you feel that way, nothing you do will stop it. You have to come clean with yourself and with him."

"I've gone over that so many times in my head. That will only make things harder, and I don't need that. Doing it this way will make it easier for the both of us."

"Kate, how long has it been?"

"Since I last saw him? I don't know... a month and one week. Something like that."

"I mean, how long has it been since you thought of Castle?"

All her facial muscles seemed to stop working simultaneously at Lanie's question. She looked at her friend and didn't try to conceal the truth in her eyes. If there was a person she could open up to about something as sensitive as this, it would be Lanie.

"I... I've never stopped thinking about him."

The admittance felt relieving for Beckett, but at the same time there was that strong feeling of fear tapping her shoulder. If she said things right now that she promised herself she would never reveal, then everything she tried to deny would become real. And honestly, she was afraid of being real. Of reality. She tried her hand once—on being real and honest—and she had her heart broken.

Beckett was scared that if things felt real, then they'd become real. She'd have to act on it. And what if it didn't work out? What if she got hurt again?

"Sweetie, you're inlove. It's a beautiful thing. You don't have to be afraid of what you're feeling."

"But I _am_, Lanie. I'm afraid." Beckett said, shutting her eyes. She rubbed a hand on her face in vexation.

"What are you afraid of? Tell me."

"Giving him everything and then still not being enough... The hurt. I don't know if I can risk my heart again."

Lanie approached her friend's side and touched her shoulder. "Kate, you're not alone in this. When two people are inlove, there's always a risk. You're not gonna avoid that. But you have to think about what Castle's risking too. He's followed you around for three years. Any other guy would be tying you to the bed by now—but Castle?" Lanie's eyes stared into Beckett's. "He makes jokes about it, yeah, but you can see that he's not rushing you to do anything you don't want to do. He cares about you, sweetie. He wouldn't have gone this far if he didn't love you."

Beckett sighed. "That's the thing, Lanie. I think—I-I love him too and I don't know what to do."

"That's a good thing!"

"What I'm doing to myself is _not_ good. Castle clearly doesn't want me anymore in his life, and I don't blame him. But I can't love someone for the rest of my life and just not do anything about it. This is exactly why I need to let him go."

Lanie crossed her arms, her smile sympathetic. "Kate, do you really think Castle is letting _you_ go?"

"It's been more than a month. I can't even get him to stay away for two minutes. If he's devoted to this, Lanie, then he's serious about this."

"He calls me every day. Castle. He asks about you all the time. Wants to know how you're doing. If you're eating well or if you get enough sleep." Lanie chuckled. "He gave me permission to reprimand you if you're working too hard. It's like he was never gone, you know?"

Tears pooled in Beckett's eyes but she couldn't pinpoint the source. Just hearing that made everything that happened feel like it was only yesterday.

"At first I didn't want to do it. As your friend." She continued. "But I realized that Castle is my friend too and I've never seen a man care this much for you as he does."

Beckett's throat was painful. Like there was huge pill shoved down there. She breathed in deeply, saying, "Has he called today?"

Lanie nodded. "This morning. Before you arrived at the scene."

Why the hell did things have to be so complicated? Why did it have to be this way? If Castle just left her alone, then maybe Kate could move on. But that's it—Castle wouldn't do that. Not until he got what he wanted.

"Do you think what I did was wrong?" Beckett asked—to herself and to Lanie. She no idea why she was questioning herself at this point but she was.

"I know you want to hear the truth, Kate, so I'm going to give it to you." Lanie began. "You were mad at Josh. You had every right to be. I would have done an autopsy while he was breathing—I agree with you on that. Or you could at least have allowed Esposito and Ryan to have at him at the shooting range. He would have deserved every second of it. But obviously, you're more upset with Castle. You wanna tell me why?"

"I told you, Lanie, he knew what Josh was going to do. Hell, Josh told him his master plan while I arresting suspects. I just expected maybe a little sense of decency from him, you know?"

"Did you ever think that Castle _wanted_ to tell you?"

"Then why didn't he?"

"Josh hurt you. He hurt you bad. If he was going to break things off, he should have told you face to face without flinching. Because you _deserve_ someone who respects your feelings, Kate. Think about what Castle was going through. The poor guy had no choice. If he told you before Josh did, you'd accuse him of being jealous."

Kate couldn't even deny that.

"If he told you after—which he did—you rant about him not caring about you because he let it happen. You were angry. You were very angry. So you took it out on the person you felt hurt you the most. And the guy you knew would sit there and take the blame. Castle shouldn't have gotten that. He must feel like he just messed his entire life up. He never wanted you to get hurt in the first place—that's why he did what he did—and you told him to his face that he caused you the most pain anyone ever has. He had no power over Josh and his choices. Kate, listen to me. Castle is the kind of guy who'd be okay loving you from the background and watching you be with Josh just as long as you don't get hurt. To him, it doesn't matter if he's not the one making you happy—just as long as you _are_."

Kate leaned on the metal, Lanie's words coming in fast.

"That's the biggest sacrifice I've heard anyone ever do. Sweetie, I know they say love is blind. That when someone is inlove, all they see are the good qualities. They shun the bad traits their partner has. But with you it's the opposite." Lanie said. "As your friend, I'm going to say this: Castle is not going anywhere, believe me. So don't try to push him away."

Beckett knew that. She wasn't shocked to hear Lanie say it too.

"But, Kate, _treat him right_."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I haven't updated in.. I don't even want to count the days. :|

School has been taking up all my free time. Sorry!


	8. Hey Blue Eyes

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the reviews! I always respond to each one, except others don't have the PM icon. :) Here's Chapter 8.

* * *

><p>"Mrs. Shapiro said she had no idea what her husband would be doing in that area at that time of the night." Ryan informed Beckett. "She said that he told her there was going to be a faculty and student's outing slash sleepover that was to be held at the school, so when he didn't come home this morning, it didn't raise any alarms."<p>

"And has the school verified that?" she asked, crossing her legs. "Esposito's working on that right now." Ryan replied while looking down on the folder. "I've also checked his financials—nothing out of the ordinary popped up and there were no unusual deposits or withdrawals."

"Did the wife say anything about Mr. Shapiro having any problems or anybody that might want to hurt him?"

"No problem at school; his students loved him. Though she thinks he might have stepped on some toes when he joined a protest supporting gay marriage."

Beckett picked up a pencil and balanced it on her finger while listening to Ryan. "Did they receive any threats?"

He nodded. "I have a couple of names here. Running them down right now."

"Okay. Check their alibis for the night of the murder."

"Hey guys, listen to this." Esposito called out. Beckett and Ryan turned to him expectantly. "I just spoke to the principal of the school and she told me that there wasn't any school activity for that night. In fact, this is the first time she heard of such thing."

Beckett's eyebrows shot up. "So he lied about where he was going to be. Why?"

"Because he didn't want his wife to know where he was really at." Esposito replied. "He probably wasn't doing anything good."

"So he lied to his wife about where he was going to be, wasn't wearing his wedding ring when we found him and no obvious cause of death. If we're going to find the answers, we have to look at every possible angle. Ryan, finish the names of the people who were threatening him. Esposito, head over to the school and dig deeper into our vic's life. It looks like he was the perfect citizen, but he's hiding something and we gotta find out what it is."

**xxx**

"What am I doing here? What's going on?" The plump, middle-aged man bombarded Beckett with questions as soon as she entered the room. "Mr. Hale, thank you for coming in. My name is Detective Kate Beckett."

His brown eyes looked at her in a scrutinizing manner. "Why isn't anybody telling me what's going on?"

Beckett took a seat. "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Hale."

"Questions about what?"

Beckett looked at him straight in the eyes. "Did you know that threatening to kill someone is a crime?"

He chuckled at her. "From what I hear, unless the guy's actually lifeless—then you _could_ go to prison. Words are just words anyway."

"But what if someone actually ends up dead a week after you make harassing calls to his home in the middle of the night—with the theme 'death'." Beckett stared at him, waiting for an answer. He looked at her in surprise, but offered no clue of his guilt or innocence.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Louie Shapiro." She slid a picture of him to the guarded man. "Do you know him?"

Mr. Hale looked down on the picture and nodded quickly. "Yeah, I know the guy. Is this what this is about?" He looked at Beckett with raised eyebrows. "Are you telling me he's dead? Seriously?"

"That's right. You don't seem to be so down about it. But assuming that's natural behavior from an unremorseful killer..."

"Woah, woah, killer? What are you talking about? I thought you said Louie was dead." He leaned towards Beckett in shock, his thinning brown hair laying flat on his head. Beckett looked at him closely. If he was lying, then he was do a fine job of it because of what she deduced, his reaction was genuine.

Beckett nodded and cleared her throat. "Mr. Shapiro _is_ dead, Mr. Hale. He was murdered at the wee hours of morning."

"Wha—and you think I had something to do with it?" The color left his face. "I didn't kill him, Detective. I certainly didn't like him, but I didn't kill him."

"Now, you see, Mr. Hale, it's going to have to take more than just your denial. There are two points that I would like for you to hear. Let's start off with a recording from twelve days ago." Beckett placed the recorder on the table, and his eyes nervously looked over at it. She pressed the play button.

"_Listen to me, you fraud, and listen to me good! You might be fooling everybody else, but not me. You understand that? You make me sick. Louie, you better not show your face where I'm around because I will kill you if I get the chance. And nobody will ever question your death because I'm making sure that it will look like you just dropped to the ground and rotted. You son of a—"_

Beckett stopped the recording, since the rest of the call was screaming and a wide vocabulary of profanity that had her ears bleeding.

"Where did you get that? That's—that's personal. You can't do that." He tried to reason.

"Mr. Shapiro was murdered. Whatever privacy there was in his life, I have to uncover it. And for the record, Mr. Hale, I will do whatever I please because this is an investigation—my investigation." She replied. "You know, I sat at my desk earlier this afternoon and listened to all your calls. That wasn't your most recent call to Mr. Shapiro, but it stuck out among the others because of what you said."

"What I-What I said?" Mr. Hale stammered. Clearly, the situation was getting to him.

"You were very specific in your threats, Mr. Hale. For clarification, you said you'd make sure to make Louie Shapiro's death look like he dropped to the ground and died. And wouldn't you know it, when we found Mr. Shapiro's body," Beckett placed a picture in front of him. "It looked exactly the way you wanted."

He looked at the picture, open-mouthed. Then he started shaking his head vehemently.

"No, no. This can't be true. I didn't kill him—I didn't kill Louie."

"Point number two." Beckett proceeded. "Do you want to know where we found his body, Mr. Hale?"

Mr. Hale's eyes looked back uncertainly and gulped.

"We found him at the east corner of Central park, right across an apartment building and an internet cafe on west 83rd street." She said. "Judging from your facial expression—you know what I'm trying to say."

"I didn't kill him! I didn't kill anybody, Detective. You gotta believe me." He spread his hands on the table. "You've got it all wrong."

"You live ten blocks from where he was murdered." Beckett jabbed a finger onto the picture. "It would have taken you two minutes at most to travel from your apartment to this location. Do you really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this?"

"I didn't hurt him—things never got physical between us. Look, we say things we don't really mean when we're upset and I didn't mean that part about killing him. I was angry and I wasn't thinking but I _didn't_ kill him!"

"Or he asked to meet you at the park to settle your conflicts. When you went to see him, things started heating up again and you just couldn't control yourself anymore. You started beating each other up and you end up killing him."

"No, that's not it! If he wanted to meet up with me, I would never have gone in the first place." Mr. Hale answered.

"Did you or did you not see him that night?" Beckett asked, giving him a steady gaze.

"No. No, I did not see Louie that night. Or last week, or last month. I didn't even know he was in the area, okay?"

"What were the two of you fighting about?" Beckett asked. "You call him a fraud on many occasions of your calls."

He looked away before answering. "It's because he was one. He was a fake. He pretended to be this good guy that everybody loved but no one really knew the kind of person he was."

"But you did?"

"I did." He nodded. "Louie and I go way back. We were buddies in high school. I didn't see him again until a few months ago. We talked, and I invited him to dinner at our home."

Beckett didn't know where he was going with this, but she listened closely.

"I have a 15 year old son, Detective. The only child my wife and I have. And he's gay. He's told me about it and come clean with me and I accept my son for who he is no matter what. Louie met him and I asked Louie if he could tutor him on some of his homework since I knew he was a teacher. He said yes and we scheduled appointments for them to study after school." Mr. Hale narrated. "My son preferred to be at his place because it was closer to school. I didn't mind. Then one day, he came home crying."

"You thought it was from bullying?" Beckett asked.

"At first. I mean, at that age, kids can be really mean and hurtful. They like to put labels on people and put them in boxes. We've had a few issues about it since Kevin came out of the closet. But no, he wasn't crying about that. It was something that Louie did to him."

"Which was what, Mr. Hale?"

"Instead of teaching my son what he needed to be taught for school, he lectured my son about his homosexuality and how it wasn't _normal_. He said that the world was never going to accept him for it because being gay was wrong. That people were going to look down on him for the rest of his life because he was attracted to men." He said bitterly. "He's _my_ son, Detective. I've never told him to be any different and here comes the _bastard_ that tells him that nobody's going to love him for who he is."

He ran his hand up his head begrudgingly. "I thought that was the end of it but then my son tells me that he was forced to watch a movie where a man and woman had sex for the duration of it. Porn. He said Louie had told him it would make him a man."

The topic gave a sick feeling to Beckett's stomach. She's met some of the most wanted criminals in the country, but she didn't always realize the battle that most people deal with today. And they're the problems that go unnoticed and people suffer because society teaches them to stick to the status quo. To not be any different from who they really are. It angered Beckett that people had to sacrifice who they are as a person because other people couldn't stomach the thought of them going beyond their own boundaries of normalcy.

"And when I heard that he was the spokesperson for the school he worked for about allowing gay marriage? That just... that just pissed me off like you wouldn't understand. He's only doing it for the record, and for the cameras and for the awards. He doesn't mean a thing of it and I have my son as living proof of what he ruined."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Hale. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but this gives you the motive to want him dead. Where were you between one and three in the morning?"

"Uhm, I was asleep from nine to one thirty, something like that. You can ask my son. But my wife arrived from her hospital shift at around two forty-five and she woke me up. We had coffee and we watched a little TV. We both went back to bed at around four. You can go ahead and confirm that with her." He replied tiredly.

"I will have to." She stood up. "Sit tight. I'll be back."

She went outside and crossed paths with Ryan coming from the break room. "Hey, is Esposito back?"

He shook his head. "No. Last thing he told me was he was wrapping up at the school. My guess is he's stuck at traffic."

"Okay. I need you to check on Mr. Hale's alibi. Go talk to his wife and confirm where he was." Beckett said. "Did you find anything on the footage?"

"The last few minutes were distorted somehow and I couldn't see a thing so I sent it up to tech. It should be back in a few hours." Ryan answered. "Did you want coffee?"

Beckett smiled and shook her head. "Thanks, Ryan, but I think I'll get my coffee somewhere else." She hadn't gone near the espresso machine Castle gave since they—well, when _she _decided to end things between them. People probably thought she was affected by it and yeah, she was. Even looking at it on the counter made her think about him. Beckett wasn't going to hide that.

Ryan smiled knowingly but didn't comment. He just nodded and walked to his desk. "Do we have his address?" he asked her. "Yep, it should be in this file." Beckett gave him the folder she was holding.

"Thanks." Ryan took his car keys and his jacket, and made his way to the elevator.

Captain Montgomery popped out of his office, stopping Beckett in her tracks. "Beckett, is he your guy?" he tipped his head towards the interrogation room.

"I don't know, sir. He sounds good for it but he has an alibi and his story has me convinced. Ryan just went out to speak to his wife to confirm or refute his alibi."

"His apartment was ten blocks from where your vic was found, and he had a beef with him?"

Beckett nodded.

"Don't cut him loose just yet, Beckett. Sure things up."

"Okay, sir."

She sat down on her desk, half-expecting her heels to hit nothing but air again. But no, these days, she got her way. Nobody else sat on her chair, she worked in silence, no more silly conjectures and none of those CIA theories. But Beckett wondered if she smiled and laughed less. What _really_ changed?

Beckett looked up at the empty desks of Ryan and Esposito, then looked past Captain Montgomery's window shades to see him busily answering calls and doing paperwork.

Nope, everyone was busy. Everyone was working. And so was she.

No time to mope around.

She stood up again and walked to the murder board, taking the marker. So Lanie had confirmed COD as heart failure from a poison—mainly a clever mix of street drugs that worked quickly once in your bloodstream and proceeded to stop all major organs. Lanie found a needle mark on his neck and that was where the kill strike was. Beckett spoke with some of her friends over at Narcotics and they promised they'd check it out. They haven't gotten back to her yet.

There was no indication that Louie Shapiro was into drugs but they were also looking into that possibility. He had defensive wounds but Lanie wasn't able to find any epithelials under his nails. The killer could have been wearing—

"Detective Beckett?"

The voice seized her thoughts, disrupting any order she had started. She turned around, much to her shock, when she looked at the fiery, red haired girl standing near her desk.

Little Castle.

Her stomach tightened and she put down the marker on the ledge. She knew she wanted to say something; her mouth was ready to. But the shock was still so raw that all she could do was stare at Alexis.

"Hi." Alexis said softly, a spark in her clear blue eyes.

Beckett finally walked over and found her voice. "Alexis!" She opened her arms and Alexis went in for a hug. She wrapped the sweet girl in her arms, feeling translucently happy. "I missed you. How have you been?"

"I miss you too, Alexis. I'm good. I'm okay. What about you?"

Alexis smiled and shrugged. "Same. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Beckett felt the regret fill up inside of her. What happened to her and Castle was between them; she had meant to call Alexis... It just never felt like the right time to do it.

"It's only been a little over a month."

"Well, yeah, it feels alot longer than that."

Alexis' sad smile didn't miss Beckett. It made her sigh inwardly, though she tried her best to look happy. "Do you wanna head to the break room? It's quieter there and we can get a little more privacy." Alexis nodded.

"You know, I feel like a cup of hot chocolate right now. What do you say?" Beckett suggested as they were walking.

"Sure. Do you guys have any marshmallows?" Alexis replied cheerfully.

Beckett nodded. "We do, but I think they came from Lanie's dead fridge." Beckett scrunched up her nose. "Are you okay with that?"

"Cold air is cold air." Alexis grinned.

Beckett bent down to open their small refrigerator, laughing. "You should tell half of the male detectives in here that. They're queasier than you are." She reached inside to take the medium-sized pack of marshmallows out.

"Where are the mugs? I'll take them out for you."

"Thanks. They're in the top cupboard."

Alexis put her sling bag down on the chair before propping herself up on the counter so she could reach the cupboard at the very top. She carefully took out two NYPD mugs and put them down. She smiled when she saw the marshmallows. "I was hoping they weren't colored. I don't really like the green, and the blue, and the pink floating around."

"I like the white ones too." Beckett smiled.

After Beckett finished preparing them, she slowly turned to Alexis with her mug. "Careful, it's still hot." She took her first sip then glanced at Castle's daughter. "So, uhm, I'd ask you if you were in trouble, but you're the most law abiding citizen in the Big Apple so I'd just scratch that one out."

"You're right. I'm not in trouble. I'm just..." Alexis began to say. "I guess I just wanted to come by and talk."

Already, Beckett had an idea of what she wanted to talk about, but said nothing.

"I know most people would say it's grown-up stuff, but I have a record of being more mature than my actual age." Kate smiled at the truth in that sentence. "You and my dad haven't said anything to each other in the longest time and,"

"Alexis," Beckett sighed.

"Wait, just listen to what I have to say. Dad didn't put me up to this. I came here on my own will."

She knew this was coming. People were going to get involved and this was just the beginning of it.

"Detective Beckett, I'm not here on behalf of my dad. I'm not trying to tell you what to do or anything like that. I just want you to know how it's been like without you. That's all." Alexis looked at her beseechingly. "Look, Dad told me everything that happened but I'm not here to attack you. I just want to let you know that he's been miserable without you. He tries and hides it when Grams and I are around, but it shows. About two weeks ago he almost lost twenty-five thousand because he didn't pass the manuscript to his next book to his publisher. He loves to write, and he doesn't even do that anymore."

"Alexis, it's alot more complicated than you know. I'm trying to decide from my end, but right now I really don't know yet."

Alexis looked down on her hands. "I just wish you could work things out. I mean, whether you know it or not, you are _family_ to us. It's not the same without you. I know my dad can do pretty stupid stuff but I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you, Detective Beckett. He went too far, I guess. Are you going to forgive him?"

Beckett's throat closed up, and she put an arm around Alexis. "You're a sweet kid. I've thought about it, Alexis. It's not your dad's fault. Know that. I blamed him for reasons that weren't true, and I regret that. I regret it so much now."

"It's not easy, is it?"

"It's damn hard, Alexis. Like hell." Beckett chuckled.

"Uhm, the other reason I wanted to talk to you was, you know, since you and my dad aren't talking, I just wanted to know if things were the same for us." Alexis said. "I wouldn't feel too bad about it. I-I'd understand if you'd prefer things that way."

Beckett felt horrible. She was a horrible person. She looked back in shock at Alexis. "No, no, no. What happened didn't involve you or Martha or anybody else. It was between me and your dad. Things aren't going to change between us, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise, Alexis. I promise."

She took her hand and held it tightly. "Looking at you reminds me of your dad. You're like the wrong printout of him and that's exactly why I remember him when I see you. You're the exact opposite of who he is. You're more serious, he likes to play around. You have red hair, he has brown..."

"I did get his blue eyes." Alexis gave her a small smile.

She chuckled, but then got serious.

"Alexis, whatever happens between me and your dad, I'll remain your friend. You can come to me for help, we can go out for a movie or dinner—anything like that. We can talk about nonsense things. Nothing will change. Understand? Whatever happens, I'll _always_ be here for you."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Notice that Captain Monty's still here. :') I miss him so I put him in the story. Hahaha.

I know it's been days and everybody knows, but still, congratulations, New York! Same sex marriage should be legal everywhere. Keep spreading the love.


	9. When two people love each other

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the reviews! Hope you're still enjoying the story. :D

Beckett thought she heard the elevator sounding, and she turned around to see who it was. She shocked herself when she exhaled in disappointment when it was Esposito who emerged. She got her pounding heart to calm down. Geez. She was jumpy today.

Who else could have been on that elevator? It's not like... No, no, he wouldn't...

"Beckett, I got everything you want to know." Esposito said, dropping his jacket on her table for the moment. "I went through our vic's cubicle at work, nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly school related. Then I went through his desk in the classroom, and I found this," he opened his hand to reveal a scrap piece of paper in an evidence plastic bag. Beckett took it, attempting to read the faded print.

"This looks like... like an address or location. Can't quite make it out." She tried looking again at the paper. Beckett gave it back to Esposito, catching his smug grin. She found it weird, but said nothing. "Uhm, take that to Forensics, will you? Maybe they can put it under a UV light and—" She stopped talking, realizing what the grin was all about. Beckett shoved him lightly, laughing. "Cut it out, Esposito. You already know what this paper says."

"Expected less from me, Beckett?" he mockingly asked.

"I will make you pay." She chuckled. "Come on, spit it out. We haven't got all day."

Esposito turned serious as he looked down on the paper. "This is the address to our crime scene. It took me some time to get it right, but it's the address of that abandoned building and it also specifically notes the area near the back exit."

"Near the back exit," Beckett murmured. "You're right. That's exactly where our vic was found."

"We've confirmed he was killed there, right?"

She nodded. "But what was there for him? And why would he have this location kept away in his desk? It must have been important." Esposito crossed his arms, a frown creasing his forehead. "You know, Ryan told me about the guy you picked up. He could still be good for it. He gave this address to our vic to meet him there, and then he killed him."

"Hale?" Beckett asked skeptically. Though it did seem like he had the most to gain from Mr. Shapiro's death, something didn't click with Mr. Hale becoming a murderer. But they couldn't rule him out yet until they found more evidence to support another theory. "I don't know about him, but Ryan's talking to his wife right now about his alibi. We'll know soon enough."

As if on cue, Ryan appeared at a corner with a dejected expression on his face that they didn't have to comprehend. Guess Mr. Hale's alibi checked out. "We gotta let him off the hook."

Beckett nodded, giving him the signal to do the job. Ryan left them once again. Esposito crossed his large arms, a frown creasing his face. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something. She moved her head to one side and looked at him curiously. "What are you thinking?"

"Well," Esposito shrugged. "We don't really know anything about our victim except that he had the crime scene written down and that he seems to have a secret that he's keeping from everybody else. You know what I'm thinking—it's no coincidence that he died where he was supposed to be."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"His wife can't give us anything. But I have an idea on a few people who might have a lot to say about him."

"Who?" Beckett asked, a little mystified by his sudden spark of ingenuity.

"His students."

xxx

"The kids are still shaken up about the news. Mr. Shapiro was a wonderful teacher." The principal said to them as they walked down the halls. "Never got a complaint on him in his five years with us. It's just remarkable how he connects with his students. It is such a shame that he's gone."

"How many are there in his class, Mr. Higgins?" Beckett clarified. Her heels clicked on the tiled floors loudly. "Twenty-two. I've informed them of your arrival and I assure you they will be on their best behavior."

Beckett smiled. "Thank you."

A few heads appeared in the doors, watching with ever curious eyes at Beckett and Esposito. She hoped they didn't look too official. She wanted them to open up to her a little. "Detective… Beckett, correct?"

"Yes."

"A fair warning." Principal Higgins started. His eyes showed amusement. "There is a certain gentleman in class that is very… well, how do I explain this… He's very well versed with the ladies. Very charming. Knows how to talk his way into things. Quite a talker. I see you are an attractive woman. He will flirt with you, at the very least, if the pain hasn't registered yet."

Esposito's cheeks puffed out, his cheeks turning dark. Beckett wanted to kick his shin for wanting to laugh at the rather awkward prediction.

She fought back a blush and forced a pleasant smile to grace her lips. "That's good to know. I'll be wary of him, thank you."

The stout, gray-haired man slowed down in front of a door. They could hear the voices of the students and the scrapes against the floor as desks were moved around inside. As Beckett thought he was going to knock, he instead turned to them with a serious expression.

"Detectives, there is only one thing I request of you."

"What's that?" Esposito asked.

"If you could conceal your weapons while you are with them—they're still children, even at sixteen."

"Of course."

He led them inside the room quietly. Beckett noticed their eyes slightly widening at their sight, as if it were all too real to believe. Mr. Higgins cleared his throat, standing erect. "Kindly clear your desks of any unnecessary things." His tone was soft. "These are the detectives I told you about earlier. They're here to ask you some questions about Mr. Shapiro. I know it's a hard time for you kids, but I need you to cooperate. Understand?"

Their faces remained almost blank and without expression. The boy sitting in the first row was absentmindedly looking out the window, as if he wished he was anywhere but in the classroom. A girl in the back observed worriedly, the rims of her eyes red. And there was a boy in the middle row who had his head bent down low, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He was the only one still properly situated in his place. He didn't bother to openly share his grief like his classmates did.

Beckett heard Mr. Higgins give a low sigh. "Call me if you need anything." He told Beckett and Esposito. He gave one last look at the class before leaving the classroom. The door hit the frame lightly, and everybody turned to look at it as if it were the biggest thing that happened. She noticed that they were all looking for a distraction. Like they would do anything not to remember that their teacher was gone.

"My name is Detective Kate Beckett. This is Detective Javier Esposito." She started. "We're from the NYPD, and as your principal said, we're here to ask for your help. At the same time, we are doing our best to find out what happened to Mr. Shapiro."

Someone's hand shot up. "Yeah?" Beckett was surprised. She didn't think anyone was in the mood to talk. "What happened?" The one asking was a handsome boy of sixteen with golden hair and almond shaped blue eyes. "The news were saying that someone killed Mr. Shapiro. Why would anyone wanna do that?"

Esposito smiled sympathetically. "We don't know what motive there is involved yet. That's part of why we're here."

"Do any of you know why anyone would want to hurt your teacher?"

This time no hands went up. Everyone started to look at each other.

"If there's something you want to tell us, you can come up and we can talk privately about it, if that's what you want." Beckett suggested, scanning the sea of young faces.

"No, that's why our class has always worked, it's because we shared everything. No secrets. We're one big family—that's what Mr. Shapiro taught us." A brunette student spoke up. "Mr. Shapiro was the best teacher we could ever ask for. He taught us everything we needed to know about school and about life. He was always there for us."

Murmurs went around the classroom and some students nodded their head affirmatively. Beckett went to stand at one corner of the classroom. "Do any of you know then, if Mr. Shapiro had problems?"

"He was being his usual self." A student answered. "Nothing different. If he told us about what he was going through then we would help him. Maybe he wouldn't be dead."

"None of this is your fault, okay?" Beckett chided gently. "You can still help him. Help him by helping us. What can you tell us about him?"

"Mr. Shapiro practically lived here. He was always around. If he wasn't checking papers, then he was on the phone with students trying to help with their problems. If he wasn't in class, then it was because he was too tired from the party that he had to drag my drunk self out of the other night." The handsome boy said. "He was that kind of teacher."

"Sounds like he kept busy with you guys." Esposito remarked.

"Yeah. We could tell when he had a fight with his wife but he would never admit it to us. He didn't like to worry us about it."

"Did they argue often?"

"I guess. Mr. Shapiro was so busy here that he forgot about home."

"Ethan, come on. You know Mr. Shapiro wasn't like that." Another boy protested, sounding distressed.

"I'm not saying he neglected his responsibilities to his wife on purpose. I'm just saying what I think."

Beckett raised her hand to stop whatever was about to come next. She didn't feel like needing to draw her gun to get two, angry, teenage boys away from each other; especially since the principal said the opposite. The boy named Ethan shot the other boy a heated stare but said nothing.

Esposito watched them carefully. He looked ready to get in between them incase a fight broke out, though she guessed he wasn't looking forward to it at any point.

"Ethan's right. This is why we're here. We don't know Mr. Shapiro the way you guys do, so we need you to tell us. Whatever you share to us will be kept confidential unless it is pertaining to the case. We need information to understand _why_." Beckett explained.

"I'm just saying, Mr. Shapiro's already dead. Why can't we give him the same respect while he was still alive?" The other boy spoke up. Clearly, he wasn't done with Ethan.

"We are not here to form judgements, okay? We care about what happened to your teacher. We want the truth. Don't you want that?"

The class was silenced by her words.

Finally, the calm-looking girl who looked like she led the class exhaled, looking up at Beckett. "What do you want to know?"

xxx

"I don't get it. It's like he's two different people." Beckett said to Esposito in a low voice. They were walking back to Beckett's car, the sun coming down on them as they crossed the wide school ground. She tucked her hands inside her coat pockets and looked at Esposito as he replied, "There's no overlap in their statements."

She nodded. "We got one person claiming that he obviously had a problem with his character, while we got 22 kids as witnesses to his perfect teacher title. I mean, what are we supposed to even base his profile on?"

"His good reputation has been adding up so far."

"But that still doesn't help us answer why he went there and why he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. Central park isn't hooker central."

Her car's lights flashed and the doors unlocked. Beckett gripped the handy car remote in her hand. "There's something we're not seeing. I mean, come on, Esposito, do you really believe he's that good of a person?"

Esposito went to the passenger side, pausing at the door to answer her question. "Well, he forced a gay teenager to watch porn. There's nothing noble about that."

"I feel like he's keeping a dirty secret or something." Beckett said to him. She got settled in her seat but didn't start the car right away. Instead she was contented on sitting for a few more minutes to let her mind work. Esposito had the same intention.

She cleared her throat. "I don't know if I'm being too critical, but those kids aren't telling us everything. Even a _saint_ lost his temper once or twice. Mr. Shapiro could have yelled at them in class or thrown their notebooks to the ground but they wouldn't tell us even if it did happen."

"You're being too critical." Esposito smiled. "Their teacher just died and they think that by talking to us openly, it would be like betraying him. I noticed. They made him sound too good."

"Protecting his image even after death."

Esposito sighed. "If we find out what killed him, then we can start from the point."

"Right. Let's go back and see how far Lanie has gone."

Beckett turned the key, and the engine sputtered to life. There was a low, rumbling sound that they heard from the car, but it didn't ring normal. There was another noise coming from underneath the car too. The engine covered it up pretty good. Beckett grimaced at both sounds with a pissed shine in her green eyes. She'd told the department about her dying car and they promised her a replacement within the month. Obviously they hadn't come around to it yet, but if she heard the same sounds again in October, she wasn't going to be so polite anymore. She fumbled with the air conditioning while Esposito watched.

"Are we going to make it to the precinct or should I call us a cab?"

She looked at him with narrowed eyes and a small smirk. "Don't make fun of my car. He's protected me from bullets and horny blind dates."

"_He_?"

"Just shut up, Esposito."

"Why can't your car be a she?"

"Unless you want out of your transportation back to the precinct, do me a favor and zip your mouth."

Beckett grabbed her seatbelt and pulled it over her body. She glanced up at Esposito, who was looking out the window. She ignored the fact that he was most likely just laughing with no sound coming out of his mouth. Typical of him. She turned the wheel and eased the car out of its parking position. Esposito shifted in his seat as he watched out for the sudden appearance of cars who had no regard for the speed limit. When they were safely on the main road, he moved again to face the dashboard. As he did, his seat creaked loudly.

She frowned slightly at his half-amused, half-surprised facial expression. He moved his leg, and a slow sound of air releasing made his jaw drop. It sounded remarkably close to a person's fart.

"That wasn't me, Beckett."

This time she had to smile. "I know. It does that sometimes."

Esposito chuckled. "I remember Castle saying he was embarrassed to have suspects in your car. I now know why."

Beckett tensed up behind the wheel as soon as his name slipped. She tried not to let it get to her. She pretended not to hear, focusing her attention on her driving. But it was already out and as much as she wanted Esposito's statement to enter one ear then leave the other, everything was so clear in her head. She could listen to Castle's voice in her mind repeating those words with no end. It burned her throat when she realized she remembered the day he told her that. He wanted a Batmobile or something close to it.

It sounded ridiculous and totally like him back then, but Beckett realized that it would hit her everyday just how much she missed hearing off the charts suggestions and impossible requests. Castle always had the knack for those kinds of things.

"Alexis dropped by, didn't she?" Esposito tried again.

"Yes. We talked."

"About Castle?"

She became tight-lipped again. He was swimming in uncharted waters, but if he really wanted to push her buttons, then let him. Beckett was sure he would regret it afterwards.

"I miss the guy, you know. I know you do too, but you'll never admit it." He continued. "At least if he were here, he could offer us a crazy theory that might be right all along. You remember how he does that."

"Sure. It's only been a month, Esposito. I don't have memory loss."

"And yet you do your best to forget he ever existed."

A lump formed in her throat. She pinned her lips against one another, holding the steering wheel with unnecessary muscle. The thing with detectives is that they're trained to see the all the hidden clues. The thing with Detective Esposito is he speaks his mind about what he sees. And he's not afraid of it. Beckett has always been thankful for his frankness on most matters, but right now she felt frustrated at how he saw right through her. She'd wanted to go through her turmoil privately, but clearly she didn't know her friends well enough.

She laughed, sounding shaken. "What is there left to do, right?"

Esposito's smile slid off his face. The look on her face freely said that this wasn't something you can shake off. Or that Castle was the kind of person you could just laugh your way out. It took a lot for Beckett to react to a situation that way. Usually when that happened, the facade of being so tough and intimidating faded. That was how she looked like right now. Upset.

"He cares about you. I don't have to tell you that." He said. "But maybe you need to hear it."

"I don't how to make things right, Esposito." Beckett admitted softly. "Castle is just… He's not like the other men in my life. He's different—he's good different."

"You can call him up. Pick up the phone. I'm sure he's waiting for you."

"If Castle did that to me, I wouldn't be so sure I'd forgive him."

"You're not Castle. God only knows what the man would go through for you."

"Exactly." She sighed. "I don't want to be the kind of person who repeatedly hurts someone like him. He's done so much for me. He'd take a bullet for me, I know. And look at how I treated him. It's my fault we're not speaking."

"So you blew things out of proportion; who doesn't do that sometimes? It happens to the best of us, Beckett."

"Castle is the best. And _he_ deserves the best."

"You _are_ the best person for him."

"No. No, I'm not." She sounded distant and unemotional. "What made him stick around, I don't know."

Esposito looked at her with knowing dark eyes. "Three years later and you're still asking that question?"

"I don't want to hurt him anymore."

"And time away from you isn't hurting him?"

Beckett shook her head strongly. "I messed up. One day, he's going to realize that and it's going to be over. What I'm doing now is I'm preparing myself for what's to come."

"Listen to your heart, Beckett. I know that it's not what you want. You know deep inside that he's not done with you, and you're not done with him." Esposito argued. "When two people _love_ each other, they are always going to find ways to fix things."

"I never said—"

"You don't have to."

They stopped at a red light. Beckett turned to him, her eyes brimming over. She'd been feeling like she'd lost total control over her emotions. The topic about Castle got to her, and it showed just how much he meant to her.

"If Ryan hears this, he'll have a laugh out of it; but Castle could be your soulmate and something equivalently dreamy to that, and you're just choosing to let him go?"

His words rubbed off on her and she chose not to say anything at the instant.

"_I_ _will have a laugh out of it, Esposito, but right now Beckett needs us_._"_ Ryan's voice filled the car.

"What the hell—" Esposito reached into his back pocket. The call had been on for half the duration of their time in the car.

"_Your butt dialled me_."

"Excuse me?"

"_You must have sat on your phone and accidentally called me. Interesting butt of yours, it even put me on speakerphone."_

That was the ice breaker.

Beckett broke out into a big smile, and even chuckled.

"So you just listened in to our conversation for ten minutes, huh?"

"_What can I say; you were doing a great job with Beckett."_ Ryan paused. _"Hey Beckett."_

"Hi, Ryan." She replied, smiling.

"_Seriously speaking, I just want to let you know that we all make mistakes and there are people willing to forgive them. We could tell how happy you were with him, right, Javy?"_

Esposito nodded.

"_We look out for you, you know, and we'd do anything for you not to get hurt by some dirt bag. He's good for you, Beckett. You heard it from us. Castle's good for you."_

"But am I good for him?" She couldn't help but ask.

"_All the guy could think about before he met you were dancing girls with fake breasts and the next party he was going to host. Now when we finish a case, you actually see him caring about what happened. And not just so he could get a story out of it. He wants to bring justice to the victims. Who do you think taught him that? So yeah, I'd say you're good for him."_

She heard what she needed. She looked over with fondness at her two friends. Though her mind was not entirely made up, it made her think about some things.

Maybe things didn't have to end.

"I love you guys." Beckett said earnestly.

_He cares about you…_

_God only knows what that man would go through for you…_

_You are the best person for him…_

_He's not done with you…_

_You're not done with him…_

_We could tell how happy you were with him…_

_Castle's good for you…_

_You're good for him…_

_When two people love each other… _

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry for making you wait this long. I suck, I know that. Please tell me you guys will still read my story?

The next chapter will be from Castle's point of view, so we'll see how he's doing. R&R! Thank you! :)


	10. She was a fan

**Author's Note:** I'm happy to see more people reading my fic. Mind spreading my fanfiction to other Castle fans?

Thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming. :)

* * *

><p>Castle cringed as his nails dug too deep into his scalp. He felt a sharp sting in the area where he had been scratching for the last 50 minutes. It wasn't itchy—he was positive his crowning glory was properly washed every time. He was scratching because… well, he didn't know what else to do. His butt was beginning to feel sore from sitting in the same position; afraid that if he'd move, he would disturb a thought that would enter his mind. And he needed one badly. Any idea would do at the moment, that's all he wanted.<p>

Just one idea. One idea for a story.

Oh, dear, the fiction gods were ignoring his prayers.

Castle looked up at the ceiling and was almost horrified as he found a cobweb at the corner more appealing than the sense of writing. His mouth went dry the same time his enthusiasm peeled off. Almost dropping his laptop on the desk in annoyance, he grabbed the remote for the stereo. Choosing a random song that probably didn't mean anything; he blasted it to the maximum volume, as if hoping it would muffle all his problems.

Soundproof walls were a blessing.

Even if he calculated his ears would start bleeding in 4 minutes or less, they somehow were still able to pick the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. Voices talking. Silence. Nimble footsteps going up the stairs.

He lowered the volume until he completely shut it off, suddenly deciding he'd had enough. He looked at the blank document on his screen with disgust before leaving the room.

Castle found his mother sprawled on the couch, wearing a silk bathrobe. She seemed deeply engrossed in the article she was reading, so Castle walked over to take a peek at what caught her attention. As soon as he saw it though, he felt mockingly discouraged. "Mother, we have all the quality books anyone could find, right here in this room."

Martha turned to look at him. "His abs, Richard, are _quality_." She pointed to the half-naked picture of a male model advertising cheap jeans.

Castle chuckled, knowing his mother's silly antics. That was when he noticed the brown substance she had slapped her face with. It must be another tightening product she was trying out. Castle wondered why he didn't notice earlier—she didn't quite look like herself.

"What is that on your face?" he asked. "It's this new thing that all my friends have been using. It'll give you younger-looking skin, just like what the cover said." Martha replied, and then went back to her reading.

Castle placed his hands on his hips, slightly bruised at being ignored. To him, it seemed like he wasn't feeling a lot lately. If he did feel anything, it didn't make much sense. His emotions were disorganized—more than his mind was. He couldn't put things into categories. It all felt so jumbled; he didn't even know where to begin.

"Not to hurt your feelings, mother, but it looks like pudding."

Martha gave him a long look. It was in some way, entertaining, to watch the rest of her stiff face in contrast to her attentive eyes.

Castle evaluated her stare—was it serious or was she trying to intimidate him into apologizing for the harmless joke?

"Was that Alexis?" Castle asked, changing gears and venturing into something comfortable and familiar. "Yes." His mother answered in a clipped tone. Despite that, how easily she answered the question meant that Castle's comment was no injury to her pride or ego. "She looked like she has a lot to talk about later at dinner."

He nodded, satisfied. He loved seeing Alexis talk so passionately about her day. It always felt like she was one of his characters that had risen to his life. So full of life, so full of energy and so full of possibilities. Castle smiled at no one in particular.

His mother—sensing that he wasn't around to merely bask in the gloriousness of his apartment—scooted over to make room for him on the couch. Castle sat down beside her, squeezing her knee affectionately as he did. His thoughts wandered back to the approaching due date of his next manuscript, but tried not to let it overshadow the good feeling he held on to.

Martha put her magazine down and pushed back strands of hair that were threatening to stick to her expensive face mask. He smiled. "Who's paying for that, by the way?"

"My dear boy, it's like you don't even know your own mother."

"Hmm." Castle looked skeptical and hopeful all at once.

There was a short silence before his diva of a mother spoke again. "I used your credit card, of course."

"Wonderful." Slight pause. "I do love you, mother."

His mother moved in her seat and faced him with a big smile. "So, tell me; how many pages have you written?"

What was left of Castle's slightly good mood crumbled. "None." He exhaled loudly. "I just sat there for over three hours staring at the blank screen. It was as if I didn't know where to begin, let alone start forming ideas. It was terrible." Martha put a tender hand to his cheek. "This isn't new to you. You've had times when you couldn't think of a story. But you always got over it, and the next thing I see is your next book coming out."

"I don't know if I could get over it this time." Castle replied. He could see the pained expression his mother wore. "You know," She began slowly. "You've had the brilliant talent for words ever since you were little. And I know just how good you are by what you've achieved today. Richard, you've published your ideas even before you met Detective Beckett. Your creativity does not entirely come from your feelings for her, and you yourself know that. I simply wonder why it seems like that _is_ the case."

Castle knew he was an open book around his mother. He just didn't expect her to read him this well. He shook his head. He shouldn't have underestimated her. "It's not that I don't know how to write… I don't feel like writing. It's as if the one thing that made me happy is the one thing I can't turn to right now. It sounds childish, but it reminds me too much of her." He smiled limply. "She was a big fan."

"Oh, I know. I saw her library of your books."

The thought somewhat comforted him, but not enough.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Maybe you need to get a new muse."

"Not helping."

"I'm sorry, darling. Cheer up."

He ran his hand through his hair that didn't need fixing. "I don't look at my laptop the same way anymore. Am I bad person?" His mother closed her hand around his tightly, smiling. "No. You just miss her, and I understand. Everything will be better."

"Everything will be better." Castle echoed.

He was the one who said it. If he didn't believe in the possibility of hope, he would never find it. So he was going to believe in it more than he believed in anything else. He believed that he was going to see Beckett again. He believed that she didn't want him gone forever. He believed that she wasn't going to give up on them.

Rick Castle believed.

Someone laid a finger on the doorbell. Its tone shook up the entire apartment, and it left an eerie ring to Castle. He jumped and craned his head to stare at the door. His stomach suddenly hurt; his breathing shallow. Castle looked at his mother with unsure eyes, and as soon as she met them, Martha understood the thoughts that were running through his mind.

Martha patted his shoulder and in a soft voice said, "Alexis ordered pizza for dinner. That must be the delivery. I hope you like cheese overload." She stood up wordlessly to get to the door, leaving Castle to swallow his expectations.

He heard the hoarse voice of the delivery guy and the smell of the pizza wafting in the air. He had no appetite but he knew he had to get some food inside of him. Starving and lacking of intellect was not a good combination. Alexis' footsteps came thundering down the stairs. "Oh, goodie! I'm so hungry, Grams."

"Just in time, then. Go on, set the table."

Castle stood up and walked to them with a masked smile. "Set the table? For pizza?"

Alexis beamed at him—his humor was starting to come back. "I think," he continued, putting an arm around Alexis. "Someone's being a bossy pants." He looked pointedly at his mother.

"Is this revenge because I put the facial cream on your tab?"

"No. It was really inappropriate the way you fawned all over that model's so-called abdominal muscles."

"He had abs. What do you have, Richard?"

Castle kept a serious face despite wanting to double over in laughter. "I have amazing hair. That's what I have."

"You guys can argue all you want. But I am famished." Alexis broke apart from Castle and skipped to the table, opening the box and taking the first slice. He drew his hand open and lowered his tone, mimicking a voice used in thriller movies. "Truce. For now."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Truce forever. I'm starving too."

He took a seat in his chair, whilst Alexis had already gnawed halfway her pizza. Castle chuckled. Her demeanor at the table was spotless compared to Castle's eating habits as a teenager now that he remembered. Even the presence of the Queen would not have toned down his appetite. Castle ripped the hot sauce open with his teeth, carefully dropping it on parts of his pizza slice.

"How was your day, Grams?" Alexis asked, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. "Same old, same old, darling. Oh, by the way, have you seen that new soap opera that came out sometime this week? It was called, 'Leaping over Stones'. Sound familiar?"

"Um, I think I overheard some girls talking about the lead actor. He's some sort of newbie but he's really good-looking. What's your take on it?" Alexis answered.

Martha crossed her arms and tipped her head up matter-of-factly. "I wrote to the director this afternoon and told him how the show wasn't going to last three episodes if the acting kept moving like that. He may be a handsome boy, Alexis, but he couldn't act even if his life depended on it."

Castle covered a hand over his mouth and laughed. "Ouch. A little too over the top, don't you think?"

"A little over the top would have been if I hauled myself over to the set and told them off while the cameras were rolling." She replied and rolled her eyes. "And they have the courage to call it acting nowadays. _Really_—the flair of my generation is lost in this world of love _squares_ and always horny teenagers."

Alexis gave her father a knowing glance. It wasn't the first time Martha complained about the vast difference between her time and the present. "Whatever happened to meaningful conversations and love stories that were believable?" She went on.

"You know what happened, mother." Castle paused to take a drink. "Society got bored with couples just holding hands, men grew tired of fully-clothed women and well… they discovered colored television screens."

"I suppose you're right about that." Martha replied, looking dejected. Alexis gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, gently prodding her to eat and to forget about the last five minutes.

"Alexis," Castle said. "How was _your_ day? Did anything wild that I shouldn't know?"

She smirked. "If wild is finishing my exam 30 minutes before any of my classmates, then I think you should know about it."

"Ahh, my wondergirl. You certainly didn't get your smart gene from me."

"Don't listen to your father. He's fishing for compliments."

"Not to worry, Grams." Alexis grinned and turned back to him. "Well, I must have gotten my smart gene from somewhere, right?"

"That is true. But right now I am pretty sure you got your looks from me."

"No argument here." Alexis laughed. She looked at her dad with adoration, knowing he could be the only person she could have this kind of conversation with. Castle caught her smile and smiled back. "So dad, um, how's your writing coming along?" she asked.

His smile froze in place. He didn't want Alexis to fret about him. "It's still coming. Got a few ideas in my head. I could use your help sorting them out."

Alexis nodded slowly, seeing right through his front. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever you need."

She bent her head to down to her plate and Castle seized those few seconds to release the scowl that was creeping to get out. He was so disappointed with himself. Another load onto his shoulders at that point. Martha noticed the muddled look on his face but intentionally avoided to say anything. They continued to eat in silence. Castle didn't like that his family had to put up with his problems; that they were forced to reckon with his ways. He'd tried to get them to somehow back off, you know? Just leave him to fix his own issues. But it wasn't easy and they were obviously affected about the whole thing as he was.

"Dad, I…" Alexis spoke up. Her voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. Castle expected an apology, though he didn't need one. But what came out of her mouth next was something different entirely. "Dad, I went to see Detective Beckett."

Her words seemed to have an awful ring to them. Castle was sure the room was spinning and he needed to hold on to something fast. It was the strangest sensation ever. Castle came to his senses shortly, but the feeling of being punched in the stomach lingered. He met his daughter's sorry eyes.

"Why would you do that?" He asked, his lips parting in grief.

"I'm so sorry. I know how you feel about all this but I—I was walking home and suddenly I was at the precinct and I saw her and we started to talk… Dad, I'm really sorry."

His words sounded ominous. "I haven't seen her in weeks, Alexis."

Martha put a hand on top of Alexis' as if telling her not to say anymore. Castle took a deep breath, surprised at his emotions that were all over the room.

Sad. Angry. Indifferent. Bewildered. Pissed. Mistreated. Close to tears. Confused. Angry. Angry. Jealous.

Jealous that Alexis got to see Beckett and he didn't.

"If you knew how I felt about this then—" he stopped to take a breath. "I need to be alone right now. Just, um, enjoy dinner. I lost my appetite." He stood up from the table, throwing his napkin on his chair with excessive force.

Alexis stood up after him. "Dad, please, I'm sorry. Don't be mad."

Castle didn't stop walking away from them. His feelings at the moment were so strong and all at their highest peak that he couldn't expect to keep them in check. If he stopped now, he might say something he would regret later. He'd done enough damage.

"I can explain, okay? If I had known it would make you this upset, I would have never gone to see Beckett."

_Well, you sure didn't think about that, did you?_ Castle clamped his mouth. He was going to cut off his tongue if he had to but there was no way in hell he was saying those words to his daughter.

He was on his way to the door. He could her Alexis' voice pleading with him but none of her words made sense to him. There was a lot bottled up inside of him. His head was throbbing and he knew to get it clear he would have to hit his head against the wall. Just to get the voices to shut up. The images to become a blur. He needed them all to just _stop_.

"Alexis!" he almost growled her name. A tone that was never heard in their home just filled the silence. Alexis' shock was fresh and her face was turning a dark pink color. The tears were brimming in her eyes, but she pursed her lips, holding them back for a few minutes.

Castle didn't know what he wanted to kill himself over: the fear-stricken look on his daughter's face or that he just raised his voice higher than he'd ever gone.

"Richard!" His mother appeared before them, her voice stern. She gave him a disapproving look as she strode to Alexis. Martha took her into her arms.

"Look, um," Castle sighed, taking his hand off the door knob. "I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I'm sorry." He touched Alexis' hair with his hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It'll never happen again." Martha shot him a bewildered look; to which Castle simply shook his head. He knew he'd been testy and his behavior had been a little tense nowadays but honestly, he didn't feel like explaining to anyone why he was that way.

He left them as he retreated back to his office, to his haven, hoping to knock some sense into himself. Castle closed the door behind him and started walking to his chair when he found himself staring at his laptop that he'd left behind. It really annoyed him—not being able to write. It was supposed to come naturally to him. Come on, he'd been doing it his entire life. It's what got them food on the table every day, it's what got Alexis her education—it's what made him who he is now. And suddenly not being able to _find_ that within him made him frustrated. He didn't want to point fingers, because the last thing he wanted to do was blame the world for his problems. But ever since that night with Beckett… that's all he could think about up to date.

He didn't want to mess it up. He could be so close to getting her back that he just knew he had to play by her rules. Beckett said she needed time apart from him, and that she'd let him know if she was ready.

She didn't exactly say out loud that _she'd let him know_… but that's what she meant to say, right?

Castle didn't like going through the day wondering if she'd call or not. If she was ready or not. If she wanted him back or not. It felt so… desperate. But whether he accepted it or not, that's what he was. Castle was desperate on getting her back. He loved her and she had to know that. She had to.

Castle picked up his phone with trembling fingers, dialling the number he knew by heart.

What was he doing?

His smartphone located the number automatically and 'Kate Beckett' flashed on his screen. Seeing her name gave him an odd feeling he couldn't understand. His thumb was poised mere centimetres above the call button. Such a small thing to be done, but it got his heart pumping.

This was certainly a do or die situation. Figuratively.

Castle bit down on his lower lip, his eyes gazing at her smiling face in the background. How he longed to see that again in person. To hear her laugh was one of the things that he missed the most. He didn't appreciate what it felt like to be seated close to her before. He now realized he should have.

Positive thinking or not, he may not be able to have those moments with her again.

Moving his stare to the call button, he shut all the questions and doubts in his mind. Instead, he focused his attention on what he truthfully felt. Castle didn't even realize his eyes were shut until he opened them.

So he did what had to be done.


	11. Making progress

Tell me what you think so far! :)

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><p>Thanks for the reviews.<p>

Castle did what had to be done alright.

He turned his phone off, tucking it in the safety of his desk drawer. He leaned back in his chair, taking his sweet time to think about what he'd just done. When he didn't feel a pang of regret, Castle let the whole thing go. He'd mourn over it another day, another hour, another minute. For now, he just wanted to crawl into his bed and watch poorly written television series.

Knowing that his publisher would be giving him a call sometime tomorrow to not so gently remind him that he had to get some writing done, he should be pulling an all nighter on his next manuscript. But you really couldn't force talent. Castle would much rather be late on his next book than pass a half-hearted written one.

Castle emerged from his office with a forlorn expression, barely acknowledging his mother on the couch as he trudged up the stairs. He thought about indulging in self-pity while he floated in warm water. Maybe a pint of ice cream would be good for him too.

He looked up and saw that Alexis' bedroom door had been left ajar. His chest constricted as he recalled the hurt look she wore when he had yelled at her. Before he was going to fix himself, he had to fix things with his daughter first. Castle walked up cautiously to the door, almost like he was afraid she might hear him and shut the door in his face. Really, he didn't know what to expect from her.

Castle knocked on her door lightly and pushed against the door in a slow motion. Alexis was propped up on her bed, with her back against her countless pillows. She had a book in her hand, looking mildly interested. She stiffened when she noticed him coming inside and she avoided his eyes.

"You move fast. Didn't I just leave you, like, 15 minutes ago?" Castle asked, forcing a smile and injecting humor into his first words. "I kinda lost my appetite too. Thought I'd read a good book instead." She replied.

He sat down on the edge of her bed with a shamefaced smile. Alexis met his eyes and he believed he saw a tiny smile at the corners of her lips. "You know, you don't have to forgive me right away. But I really am sorry for yelling at you, Alexis. I wish I could take it back."

"You didn't _yell_ at me. You just… your voice was just a little louder than usual."

"Doesn't that count as yelling?"

"Not in my book."

Castle found Alexis' hand and held it up to his face. He gave it a kiss before pressing it to his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

She shrugged, then smiled. "I told you, dad, I'm not mad. You don't have to apologize for anything. I totally get it."

"You do?" His eyebrows went up.

"I do."

"Well, now we're on topic—I wanted to let you know too that you shouldn't be apologizing for going to see Beckett. She's your friend too and if that means going to see her everyday, then I'm fine with it."

"Dad…" Alexis started to say.

"I'm not kidding."

She crossed her arms. "I understand, dad. I'd be this upset too if I had a fight with Ashley. I'd want to work it out quickly, but I guess we're different."

"Not so different—we both care very much about the people we love."

**x x x**

"Beckett, one of your friends from Narcotics left you a message."

"Beckett, Tech just cleared the last part of the surveillance video."

She had just stepped out from the comfort room when the unison of Esposito and Ryan's voices came to her. At first she heard only the incomprehensible words meshed but her brain was quicker than she thought. The next thing Beckett realized she was doing was taking sharp and concise steps towards her desk, her hand reaching out to drag her chair from under the table.

Beckett spotted the bright blue post-it taped to her telephone. It had a name written on it and a few details below. Beside that was a CD—surveillance video.

"Damon Clarke." She said aloud. "Run him, will you, Esposito?"

"Way ahead of you." Esposito walked to her and gave her his file. Surprised, but more excited to know about Damon, she turned the pages. Her eyes scanned the details, absorbing every little information she could find. Beckett took a long look at his mug shot before turning to Esposito.

"How did they find him, Espo?"

"Well, Lanie matched the drug make that killed Mr. Shapiro to Damon Clarke's signature drug. Called it the, Blue Flame. Anyways, it was all over the streets back in 2009, then production stopped for awhile. But word is, it's back again this year. It's more expensive and every junkie out there is just begging for it."

"Any idea why it faded last year?"

"The cops could have caught on to his business. Probably almost arrested Clarke. That must have spooked him, so he laid low for some time." Ryan answered, pulling up a chair beside Beckett.

"That's what I was thinking. I'm already trying to trace where the drug sales started, so we can catch who his wingman is. But it seems like Clarke has learned his lesson. I'm having a hard time even connecting the dots."

Beckett nodded. "Yeah, well, we'll keep on trying until we find him." She reread a part of his file. "Okay, it states here that he did time for his long history of drugs and the usual shebang. He's been dealing cocaine, heroin, meth and marijuana but it looks like he has never been actually caught for Blue Flame. How did Narc positively identify this drug belonged to him?"

"An informant came by. They had no physical evidence that linked Clarke to Blue Flame but they received enough intel to start building a case against him. They're continuing it until now. A lot of people would be glad to have him in prison." He answered.

"Yeah, let's see what we can do." Beckett tousled her hair and cleared her throat. "So we need to know who had their hands on Blue Flame and who had enough to kill our vic. Gather your sources and have them scout the streets for any signs of the drug going around. As soon as you find someone, bring them in for questioning. If all hope is lost, try and talk to the informant. He might know more."

"She."

"What?"

"The informant is a woman."

Esposito was on the phone as soon as that sentence left his mouth. Beckett was left with the CD. Carefully taking it, she inserted it inside the compartment and pressed play. "Until what part of the video were you able to watch?"

"Uh, here. Let me." Ryan took the mouse from Beckett and he fast forwarded it to the part they needed to see. "This part. Nothing of our interest came up before that. It's a whole lot of leaves and darkness. Really boring."

Kate gave him an amused smile. The screen filled up with shadows that got Beckett's attention. There were about five to six shadows—if she had counted correctly. She leaned forward, hoping to catch a better look at the people in the video.

"There are six people there. All teenagers. Looks like they were about to do something when a patrol car passed by and that made them run in the other direction." Ryan explained to her. She felt surprised but pleased that she didn't have to look for answers herself. Esposito and Ryan had both acted like they didn't know anything, but really, they'd already gone ahead to look over it beforehand. It made her smile, but she put that thought on hold as she focused on what he was saying.

"And when was this?" Beckett asked. "The day before our victim was killed. I went through everything, and there hasn't been any activity except this one right here."

Another shadowy figure came to the screen but they could only see the top of his head from where the camera was positioned. "Wait, who's this? There was a seventh person at the scene?"

"Apparently. I assume he's not with those boys. He looks older, more mature. I'd say he was there to meet up with someone but left ten minutes later when it was a no-show."

"We can't get a clear picture of his face?"

Ryan shook his head. "I tried. But the damn camera angle and the quality just made it impossible. Tech even brushed up on what they can. Still, we can't get anything on their identities."

Beckett was about to say something when she saw something that made her jump. "Pause it. There. Look. Is that a hand?"

"What? Where?" Ryan inched his face towards the screen, as if his eyes couldn't get close enough. "Beckett, you're right. That's the guy's hand. Can't believe I missed that."

"Don't worry about it." She waved her hand in assurance. "Can you blow it up? I think there's some sort of writing or maybe a tattoo on there."

"Sure." Ryan murmured. His hands worked quickly and merely seconds passed before he showed the close-up picture. Beckett bit her lower lip and shook her head as she tried to understand the drawing on his hand.

"What are you guys looking at?" Esposito asked, joining them. "Looks like a tat."

"Yeah, we know. Problem is, we can't tell what kind."

"Huh. Well, it looks like a circular pattern or something. Can't be sure. It's like a dark, distorted shape on the back of his hand." Esposito said. "Want me to take it up to Tech again?"

"They probably won't get around to it until next week but it's a worth a try. Ryan, print it—I don't care if we don't even see what it is. Then stick it to the murder board. It helps to see what progress we've done so far."

"Sending it to the printer right now." Ryan confirmed.

Beckett picked up her phone and cradled it on her shoulder as she went through her drawer looking for her notepad. "Who are you calling, Beckett?"

"_My_ informants. Most of them were involved in drugs back in the day so it's safe to assume they might have run into Clarke." She answered. "We need everyone available looking for Damon Clarke. Espo, did you put out an APB on him?"

"I will do that."

"Great."

**x x x**

"Darling, are you sure you don't want to come along?" Martha asked him one more time. "It'll be fun, Dad. You can buy something for yourself if you want to." Alexis jumped in, pushing her shades up her head.

Castle laughed and ran his hand through his wet hair. "Your invitation is very enticing, ladies, but I know what's going to happen. You're going to go into every store in the mall and buy everything in sight—I'm talking about you, mother—and I will be left behind carrying your Mt. Fuji of shopping bags. No thank you."

Martha sighed. "Besides, you guys know I need to get this book done or I will have my head on a platter and served to the dogs."

Alexis made a face. "You're exaggerating."

"Oh, really? You're going to be sorry when I end up dead and you two will be left to pay the credit card bills. How's that for exaggerating?"

"Your father's right, dear." Martha interrupted quickly. "We should just go and leave him to do his writing."

Castle grinned. "Have fun, you two."

"Ta-ta, Richard! We'll be back after dinner."

He watched his mother's colourful outfit fly out as she spun around, taking Alexis by the shoulders. Castle smiled. The new boots Alexis' bought looked good on her.

There was more giggling and talking until the door opened and closed, leaving Castle once again in his sanctuary. He turned his laptop on and waited for it to load. He stared outside his window, finding nothing particularly interesting in the buildings that were in his sight. He'd just turned to see the screen brightened when his phone rang.

He picked it up immediately. "This is Richard Castle."

"Castle! Hey bud, how's it going?" Castle relaxed. Only one person in the universe called him 'bud.'

"Bobby, hey. It's good to hear from you. Before anything else, congratulations on the new book. Haven't gotten the chance to read it but I will pick up a copy soon."

"You get right on it, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are you doing tonight, Rick?"

"Uh, I don't know. Got nothing on my planner. Why, what's up?"

"I have a book signing this afternoon."

"And?" Castle knew there were just surprises in store with Bobby Ray.

"And I would like you to be my special guest. What do you say?"

"Oh, Bobby. I'd love to but… I really need to get some writing finished. I missed my deadline by, like, ten days. You probably don't know what that's like."

Bobby laughed. "You're kidding. Is this Rick Castle I'm talking to right now? The guy who has the wackiest ideas that turned into best-selling novels? What's really going on?"

"I wish I had the answer too. But really, my hands are tied."

"Come on, Castle. This would be a great opportunity for you and me. We get your fans coming and we get mine, then they all come together—it'll do amazing things for us. Remember how that feels?"

"Yeah, of course. It's just that—"

"Bud." Bobby said seriously. "Do this for me. Just like the old times. Come on."

Castle glanced at his laptop. Another distraction was knocking on his door. _Loudly_.

Honestly, it did sound fun to get out with a friend. Sign books for his loyal fans. Smile for the camera. But god, he's been putting off writing for weeks now. How long was he going to lengthen the date of his extinction? Like when he's going to lose everything when his next book doesn't come out on the marked date?

"Bud, just this one time." His friend's persistent voice was like a flower to a bee.

He thought about it, fast. "When and where, Bobby?" Castle smiled.

"Yes! I knew you were going to come around."

"Oh, I bet you were counting on it."

"Shoot." Bobby cursed. "My little girl just tipped over the pitcher of water. Gotta clean this up. I'll send the details to your phone. Bye."

"See you."

Castle felt just a tiny ounce of remorse as he switched his laptop off. Poor thing had to go through all that just because he couldn't make up his mind.

But maybe the book signing would be a good thing for him. It could be what he's been waiting for. A chance to be in that light again—to be greeted by fans and to be reminded why writing would always be a part of him.

Screw the deadline. He was dead to his publisher anyways.


	12. Missing you

Thank you for all the reviews! I'm really glad to have continued from my oneshot. Hahaha.

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><p>Kate Beckett sighed as she listened to the monotonous voice of her informant's parole officer. For the last ten minutes, she'd been trying to squeeze out valuable information about where Dirk Lombard could be at so Beckett could take her car and question him about what he knew. Apparently, she'd turn from detective to therapist in less than a minute. The good sir shrugged off Dirk's whereabouts, telling her not to worry since he was positive Dirk was a changed man. Right after that, he began his long tale of why his third wife was packing her bags.<p>

She could feel her pulse coming on faster, with a soft banging going in her head. She suddenly wanted to yank her hair just to stop the aching. It was only when she started to feel nauseous that Beckett came to understand that she hadn't taken any food within the day. Beckett's eyes found the vending machine and her stomach growled in agreement.

She sighed again, feeling like the vending machine was situated a country away. She was barely listening to what the parole officer was saying.

Beckett distractedly pulled on the telephone wire as a sharp pain stabbed her stomach. "Donald. Donald?" She almost moaned into the phone. "I-I have to go. If you have any information on Dirk, call me right away. Thanks." She banged the receiver down, a little annoyed at her carelessness.

Beckett had great aim. She had terrific combat skills. Fluent in languages people can't count on their ten fingers. But she certainly didn't know how enhanced her sense of smell was until she looked up and saw Ryan strolling towards her with a meaty burger and French fries. Beckett's mouth watered at the sight of the packaging.

She tried not to look so deprived of food. Ryan smiled at her, and to her delight, dropped the food on her table. "Esposito and I were out talking to junkies. We had lunch." He pushed the food closer to her hands. "Thought you should do the same too."

She was floored. Beckett couldn't find the words to express her gratefulness. "At two in the afternoon—Ryan, you are heaven sent." She hurriedly took the burger in her hands.

Esposito joined them, jingling his car keys in his hand. "The next thing that's coming out of your mouth is that I'm an angel." He said, grinning.

Becket blew kisses to the two detectives. "I love you both so much. But the next thing that's going _inside_ my mouth is this burger. Excuse me." She bit right down on it, satisfaction just hitting her when the flavors exploded in her mouth. She couldn't have eaten the burger fast enough. Pretty soon, she was popping fries in her mouth.

Esposito looked at her incredulously. He shook his head mockingly. "It's amazing what food does to a woman."

"I feel like I'm watching a segment on Nate Geo. You know, cave women in their natural habitat." Ryan added, his voice bubbling with laughter.

Kate picked up a soiled tissue and threw it at them. She gave them both an icy glare until her own laugh betrayed her. "Darn it. I almost believed that look could freeze hell over." She said, laughing heartily with Ryan and Esposito.

"You wanna hear what we found out?" Esposito asked.

"I'll take that as a rhetorical question."

"Right. So just… keep doing what you're doing and keep your ears open."

"We talked to one Curtis Murphy—he said that he was looking to score some coke, so he met up with this guy." Ryan began. "Right after he purchased his necessities, the said dealer reached into his pocket and offered him a bag of Blue Flame. He had about fifteen more in his pockets."

"Are we sure it's the real deal?" Beckett asked. "Oh, yeah. It was so real that Murphy couldn't believe the price the dealer was selling him. They argued over the price until our unknown man left."

"Was it Damon Clarke?"

"No. Clarke's not a man who hides behind a ski mask. Everybody knows what he looks like, and Murphy says it wasn't him."

Beckett frowned slightly and took a drink from the can of soda. "Well, we'll have to take his word for it until we prove otherwise. Got anything else?"

"We got a tip that an abandoned factory was suddenly functioning—cooking up Blue Flame. We're going to get prepped for a raid. You coming along?" Ryan asked. "As inviting as it is to spend time with the people who insulted my eating habits—if things go south, I'd like to get a head start before we lose another lead again."

Esposito grinned. "Alright. If you say so."

"Oh, um, Beckett, you got a little something on your teeth." Ryan motioned with his fingers. Her hand flew to her mouth, to hide whatever horrible leftover had stained her pearly whites. "I'm just messing with you." Ryan guffawed. The two of them were laughing so hard they turned blue.

"Go on, go on. Make fun of me now." Beckett declared. "But I will get back at you both for this."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Beckett." Esposito said, wiping the tears from his eyes. He let out one more laugh before they left to brief the members of the task force.

She looked after them, her lips pursed in amusement. She never thought she'd be this lucky to have been paired up with Ryan and Esposito. Beckett couldn't imagine solving a case without those two. She adored them immensely, even if they did fight like siblings sometimes.

Beckett smiled to herself. Well, she was alone once more. The boys were always great to be around, but she kinda missed fighting two on two. She looked longingly at the empty space beside her desk, where Castle's chair had been. He was such a huge part of her; even she never admitted it to anyone but herself. Oh, Beckett could sure use a silly conversation right now.

Her stomach churned the longer she stared at the space. The space where he sat and spun off the most unbelievable stories. And the smile he would give her—the one she felt was only for her.

Beckett snapped out of her little daydream and focused on the matters at hand. There was no motive for Mr. Shapiro's death—at least, not one that they were seeing. He had no reason to be there at the park, at that hour. Beckett was starting to think that this was only what he wanted them to see about him. They'd started to peel back the layers, and they discovered he was comfortable with forcing a minor to sit down and watch pornography. Beckett was going to find out more; she just felt it.

She had only begun to compartmentalize the things she wanted to complete for the day when her table shook. She saw her phone wriggling noisily. Beckett picked it up. It was a text from Lanie.

_911. _

Running on a full stomach, Beckett had no problem taking a trip down to her friend. She even hummed a tune in the elevator. She stepped out of the elevator, her breath hitching when she saw the dead bodies lined up on either side of the wall. She'd seen plenty before, but usually not much would be out here. There must have been a car accident or a gang crossfire.

Beckett opened the door leading to the autopsy room. Lanie got up when she entered the room. "What happened out there?" Beckett asked.

"Massacre. At a convenient store." Lanie answered. "They're still out looking for the guy."

"Who's working the case?" She asked, interested.

"Cage and Villegas. Come here." Lanie took the sheet off the victim's body. "I found something on your vic when I came in. He has bruising on his wrist." She raised the arm to show Beckett. "It didn't present itself when I did the autopsy because this happened minutes before he was killed, so the blood didn't have time to settle."

"I assumed he struggled with his attacker before he was killed. He got it in the fight, right?"

"Not this one. His other wounds are to the torso—the ones that showed themselves just a little before—where you would hit someone if you want them to stay down. The bruise on his wrist came separately."

"What do you think caused the bruising, Lanie?"

Beckett looked at the bluish-violet ring that circled his wrist. "It looks like someone grabbed his wrist in a hard manner." Beckett met her friend's eyes. "Are you saying there was another person with Mr. Shapiro when he was killed?"

Lanie shrugged. "That's just a theory, Beckett. Nothing conclusive."

"A theory that makes sense. I think someone witnessed the murder."

She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. "Beckett." She answered.

"_We're at the factory. Clarke's not here, but he was definitely in this place at some point before. We've got traces of Blue Flame everywhere—I've got CSU combing the place for evidence that might lead us to him."_

"Okay, what else have you got?"

"_This was our last lead. Nobody else seems to know where he is."_

"That's crazy, Esposito. You don't go disappearing without a trace."

"_What do you want us to do?"_

"Bring the informant in."

x x x

"You know, I could get killed if anyone saw me walk in here." The Latina with the sharp tongue said to Beckett when they were seated. "I told you, if any of you cops need information, we meet up at a safe place. Dragging me out here in a police car isn't exactly assuring me of anything."

"The car was unmarked." Beckett replied. "We've got a protective detail on you."

Maura Anders looked at Beckett with mistrusting eyes. "Don't make me regret helping you guys out. Where's de Marco?" She asked, naming a Narcotics detective.

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett. Homicide." She opened the file on Damon Clarke and pushed it to Maura. "Our division will need your assistance."

She stared at Damon's picture before looking back at Beckett. "Damon's dead?"

"Not quite." Beckett shook her head. "But we do think he killed someone."

Maura had piercing dark eyes and a mouth that never seemed to relax from an arrogant sneer. Her hair was rolled up in unkempt bun, clearly showing the tattoo of a bloody knife inked on the side of her neck.

"That doesn't surprise me. But what makes you think I can help?"

"You give names of the people who work for Damon. Now we need him. Do you know where he is?"

"Listen, Detective, I look out for Damon's guys. I don't go searching for the bastard."

"It was a simple question, Maura."

She sighed. "No. I don't know where he is. If I did, you guys wouldn't be having this problem."

"Why did you come forward?"

Maura's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms defensively across her chest. "I thought I was here because of Damon."

"Can't I ask?" Beckett replied smoothly, relaxing in her chair.

Her eyes bounced off the walls, completely trying to evade Beckett's. After a minute of long silence, she rested her hands on the table with her head still down. "Back when I was still running with Damon, there was this girl. About 13, maybe. Ran away from home and Damon took her in as a drug mule." Beckett saw Maura gulp. "Everything was working fine until she messed up one of the orders and that got him into trouble. Damon beat her up so bad she couldn't walk. After that, he threw her out."

Maura looked up, shocking Beckett with the genuine disgust on her face. She looked angry recalling the incident. Beckett couldn't tear her eyes away.

"I'm far from a model citizen. I'm not even close. I sell drugs—I get the money, that's how my whole life has worked. But I don't beat up kids and I wasn't going to stand with a person who did. So I got out."

And when you thought that you've gotten everything in its place—someone like Maura comes along and changes all that. Despite her record and what she does for a living, she was a decent person. Maybe if someone cared earlier, she would've done greater things—the kind she was destined to do. But was it too late? To help her out?

Beckett subtly glanced over at her. She could not erase from her mind the softness she had found in Maura while she was narrating about the 13 year old. The hard shell cracked open. Underneath the unshaken image of a woman who'd seen it all, she truly cared.

Beckett smiled. "Thank you for coming, Maura. I'll have an officer take you back."

The officer read her mind, opening the door on cue and escorting Maura out. Beckett gathered her things and followed them outside. The neat freak in her came out and she was disturbed at the messy pile of papers. She stopped, balancing the folder in her palm and methodically arranging the file.

"Detective Beckett."

She looked up, shutting the file and searching for the origin of the voice. Beckett found Maura standing stiff, her eyes focused on something. There was something in the urgency of her tone or in the way her eyes looked so lost at whatever she was looking at. "Yes?" Beckett frowned and walked towards Maura.

Maura moved forward quite suddenly and Beckett still had no idea what had gotten to her. She dropped Damon Clarke's folder on her desk, quick on Maura's tail. "Maura, what is it?"

Maura stopped in front of the murder board. "What are you seeing?" Beckett asked, putting her hands on her hips. She was waiting for her to say something, but it looked like Maura had lost her tongue.

Kate controlled herself, and in time Maura whipped around to face her. Her eyes were practically out of their sockets. "I know who this is." She meant the picture of the unidentified man from the surveillance video.

"What? How can you tell?"

"I don't need to say it twice. This here is Damon Clarke. Where'd you get this?"

"Wait, what?" Beckett looked baffled. "You can't see anything from the camera except that tattoo on his hand."

"That tattoo is a blue ball of fire." Maura said impatiently, her eyes wandering back to the picture. "Blue Flame." Kate Beckett murmured. She hardened her eyes to the pixelated picture. With the recognition, she could imagine the outline of the tattoo—the color, shape and size.

Maura turned to her. "And before you ask, nobody would dare to get the same tat as Damon's. That's asking for trouble and with Damon—nobody would risk that."

x x x

"That's C-a-s-s-y."

"No E?"

"No."

Castle expertly signed the space on his chest, not feeling any weirdness as he looked down at the printed picture of him. He gave the small poster back to the blonde woman, who beamed at him. She hurriedly read the small note he'd written, giving him a big smile. "Thank you so much, Mr. Castle. Your books are very addicting." She laughed. "I can't put a book down without finishing it."

Castle smiled. "And thank you for that compliment. Have a lovely day."

Another woman stepped up, her long brown hair tied in a messy braid. Her cheeks were flushed. Rick saw the Nikki Heat novels she was clutching and he opened his hand up to her with a kind smile. "Hey there."

She blushed and set the books down in front of him. "Um, I'm—I'm just… I'm, um, I—"

He didn't laugh, nor did he feel amused towards her. He'd encountered many fans that had trouble talking to him once they were actually in front of him. At first it was pretty funny and amazing that people would be so in awe of him, but the longer he did book signings, he understood why it was no nervewrecking.

He'd hyperventilate if he met Spiderman face to face too.

"I'm Rick Castle." He grinned, extending his hand.

She looked surprise but didn't miss the chance of taking his hand. "I'm…" she began her nervous string of words again. "I'm, well… I'm sorry." She laughed thinly. "Seeing you up close is like nothing I've imagined. I'm Heather."

"Hey, Heather." He smiled again. "First time?"

"Yeah. My friend's a big Bobby fan and she called me up when they introduced you as the surprise guest." Heather explained. "I'm a big _you_ fan."

Castle laughed. "Wow. I'm flattered. Coming from a beautiful woman like you—that's really nice. Thank you."

"Oh, please, Mr. Castle. You're too nice." Heather blushed. "I didn't have time to fix myself. I just wanted to get over here and make sure I wouldn't miss you again."

He reached for the book on top of the pile, uncapping his pen as he did. "These books look brand new. You do a fantastic job of keeping books."

"Of course. It's Nikki Heat—my favorite."

Castle glanced up at her, smiling. Her brown eyes shined as she smoothed her hair consciously. "Thank you once again. I enjoyed writing the character." He replied. "So, um, why now?" Castle asked casually, making small talk. He loved talking to his fans—though his people preferred less of it since it would take the line a bit longer to move. Still, for him, they all deserved every last word of their conversation. Lining up isn't easy, so Castle at least made them feel like it was worth the wait.

"I tried to attend your other book signings but I could never reach them in time." Heather answered. "Right now, I'm just really lucky. Um, do you mind signing each one? If it's not too much."

"No, it's no problem." Castle shook his head. After he was done, he leaned strongly on his elbows and looked at Heather with a sincere smile. "I'll be sure to look for you at my next book signing, alright?"

Heather laughed. "I'll be there. Thank you so much."

"It was a pleasure meeting you."

There was a moment to fix himself as someone approached him with a glass of water, temporarily stalling the line. He took a big gulp, realizing how parched he was. Castle looked to his left, to the other side of the table where Bobby was also signing. Bobby saw him and grinned. "I've got to hand it you, bud—you're line's longer than mine."

People who heard him laughed, and there was a late ripple of laughter from the ones who heard it from the person in front of them.

Castle laughed, still shaking his head as another fan came to view. He had to refill his glass more than a few times. A little later, Bobby's organizer called for a short break. Waiters emerged with trays full of biscuits and drinks held high. Bobby sure thought of everything.

Castle stood up and hurriedly went down the steps as his legs tingled. Nature was calling. He spotted the bathroom across the room. Castle put autographs and pictures on hold around that time.

Five minutes later he stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. He smiled pleasantly at everyone around him. The same group of people rushed to him, trapping him in a circle. This time, he smiled and posed for the cameras. Castle was signing notebooks and hands and pictures until he looked up… and everything happening to him disappeared.

It was like one of those scenes in movies. When you're standing in the middle of a white room, and the only other person you can see is _who you want to see_. Castle was feeling that way as he stared, oblivious to anything else but her.

There was no way to describe how his heart was beating slower and faster—somehow at the same time? And he didn't know whether to laugh or to smile or to cry. It was almost like going through puberty the second time around.

It was a crowded room, but she stood out. She was alone, holding an empty glass in her hand. She craned her neck to the left and to the right, in search of someone. Castle's stomach was as unsettled as he was. He watched her but he didn't make a move. The hair, the height… even with her back to Castle, he was determined it was her.

"Excuse me." Castle muttered. It was a reflex.

He licked his dry lips as he walked towards her. His hand went out and touched her shoulder. "Beckett,"

The girl turned around. She was pretty and attractive. But not who Castle was looking for. He realized he made a mistake and he stepped back with an apologetic smile. "I apologize. I thought you were someone else."

Castle didn't bother to elaborate as he raced back to his chair. Fans were waiting expectantly. He sat down, unable to shake off the frustration.

Bobby had moved his seat closer and noticed his strange behavior. "You okay, Castle? You look like you saw someone rise from the dead."

"I'm okay."

"Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"No one. I thought she was… Nevermind. She was no one."

Castle forced a smile as woman wearing a mini dress leaned down to him. Her lips were colored a bright red, her eyes seducing.

Any other man would have knocked off the table just to get to the leggy blonde, but Castle was simply in hurry to get this session over with. He had no desire for her deep cleavage, or the fact that all the men were crowded behind her just to get a better view of her ass cheeks.

"Rick Castle—you are better looking in person." Her voice was sultry enough to distract Bobby. He nudged Castle's foot underneath the table, but Castle ignored him. "Where would you like me to sign?" Castle asked and he cleared his throat.

"Actually, I didn't bring a paper along with me. But would you please sign my left boob?"

He quickly recovered, and with a shake of his head, said, "I don't know you at all, but I have this respect for women in general. I think you're beautiful and that you could get any man you want, but I am not agreeing to sign your chest. I can get a paper somewhere, and I'll… I'll sign that."

Bobby got the cue, though he looked mortified. He tore a paper from a notepad and gave it to Castle. Without another word, Castle signed it, not bothering to ask for her name.

She avoided his eyes as he gave the paper. Looking horrified and rejected, she mumbled a 'thank you' and left.

Castle sighed. Bobby froze and looked at him for the longest period of time. "When did _you_ get over endless legs and size D's?"

He didn't want to explain things to Bobby, no matter how good friends they were. He wouldn't understand what Castle was going through. Frankly, the only people who'd understand his situation right now are the people who'd experienced every single thing he did. Not much to be hopeful for.

"You know, Bobby, a lot of things have changed since we saw each other."

"Clearly. The Castle I remembered would have gotten her number _and_ her hotel room number. But apparently the new Castle is a gentleman." Bobby said bluntly although not in the insulting kind of way. "Didn't realize you were off the market, bud. I'm glad I found out earlier before I got the chance to set you up with one of my model friends."

Castle smiled politely, though Bobby's words fell on deaf ears.

"Hello? You didn't blink when I said model." Bobby laughed. "God, you're different. But it's working, Castle." He stood up, most likely to get a breather from the stuffy room. "That detective's got you smitten. It's a funny sight—never thought I'd see you get serious."

"What?"

"I read the magazines, Castle. Some tabloids too." Bobby looked at him knowingly. "I know they print some crazy shit, but the pictures don't lie."

A lump lodged in his throat. Talking about Beckett wasn't helping him at all. It made him miss her more.

"A picture's just a picture, Bobby."

"Not when you're staring at her like a whole crowd of naked women could be waving at you but you still wouldn't see past her. I see how you look at her. She's not like the others—she means something to you."

Castle looked away from him. "Good story. It'll be a bestseller one day—I can feel it."

He chuckled. "Oh, I see how you want this to be. It's okay, must be hard for the most eligible bachelor to admit that he'd madly head over heels inlove."

"Can we move on now?"

"I have to take a leak… but like I said Castle, you can't fake candid shots."

Castle turned to him, now curious about what pictures he was talking about. He knew Bobby wouldn't give it up until later, but he had to at least try. "What are you getting at?" He asked him. "Oh, as if you didn't know already." Bobby scoffed.

When Rick gave him a fed up gesture with his hands, Bobby walked behind him and patted his back.

"She loves you too, Castle."

* * *

><p>So I felt really uncomfortable with how Castle was so excited over insurance agent blondie in the recent episode. Anywaysss, he loves Beckett. Let's hope the writers make that obvious or something. Hahaha.<p>

.com/pages/Castle-FanFics/168994913165121 Um, check this page out, will you? I'm sure you guys would like to read more Castle fics so this page would be a good place to go. It's new though, so it needs more supporters and whatnot. Spread the word guys! :)


	13. The perfect gentleman

**Author's Note:** Thank you, thank you, thank you as always for your reviews. You guys rock. :)

* * *

><p>"Any hits on Damon Clarke's whereabouts?" Beckett asked Esposito, who was on his computer.<p>

"Not yet. But his face is on every cop's radar, so you can bet we'll catch him."

Captain Montgomery's door opened and he stepped out, steering towards Beckett. "How's your case moving?"

Beckett swept her hair to one side before sighing. "We've got no eyewitnesses to the murder, and we still don't have motive or suspects, Sir." Montgomery raised his eyebrows for more. "We had to cut Hale loose—his wife confirmed that he was with her at the time of the murder."

"He had the most to gain from our vic's death, but he didn't do it." Ryan interrupted, taking the nearby chair and sitting in on the conversation. Roy glanced at Ryan before putting his hands to his hips and asked, "What lead are you following up on?"

"We're trying to locate Damon Clarke. A CCTV camera put him at the crime scene a day before the murder. We think he's linked to the case somehow."

"Clarke, Clarke…" Montgomery kept on saying, as if trying to remember where he'd heard that name before. Beckett was about to help him out when he spoke. "He's the dealer whose drug killed Shapiro. His drug—_and_ he was at the crime scene? He's looking good for this, Beckett."

"Clarke was never actually charged for Blue Flame, since no one caught him in possession of it. But even so, there is confirmation that he is the manufacturer of the drug and they're making a case against him." Beckett replied.

Esposito turned off his monitor and strode to them, seating himself on Ryan's armrest. "We have a theory, Cap. Beckett, Ryan and I think that the area where Mr. Shapiro was found is also where Clarke makes his transactions. We have some people who appeared to be waiting there but they left after a patrol car passed by. Then a few minutes after they left, Damon Clarke arrived. He stayed for about five minutes then he got out of there."

"Any sign that the victim was a user? That explains why he was there. Could be that he and Clarke had a deal that went haywire." Captain Montgomery offered. "There was no indication that Mr. Shapiro was using. I asked Lanie to go over his body for track marks but the only needle mark she found was the one that killed him."

"Cocaine disappears quickly in the system."

"Lanie checked his nostrils." Beckett answered automatically. She intertwined her fingers and looked up at the concentration that Captain Montgomery depicted on his face. "It was all booger and little nose hairs." She added. Ryan grinned and he nudged Esposito. Beckett hid a smile—they'd been really sweet and playful the past days. Even if all their jokes and their tricks were either about her or for her… Beckett felt more loved than she ever did.

"Well, it's not a coincidence how all these events complement each other." Montgomery finally said, looking as lost as them.

"It's a long shot, but assuming he was there to buy drugs, maybe it wasn't for himself. He could be purchasing them for someone else. For another purpose." Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, we literally have nothing."

"Sounds out of the way but I'll look into that." Esposito stood up and rolled his tone shoulders. "Shapiro was hiding something in his life. Who knows, this might lead us somewhere."

Captain Montgomery nodded. "Alright. While Esposito works on that, Beckett, confirm whether or not your victim had drugs on him. I don't care if it was for him or for someone else. The drugs are the connection."

"Sir, we don't have enough for a warrant to search his home."

"Talk to the wife. Let her welcome you inside so you can search the house for any illegal substances."

"I don't think the wife's going to talk to us if she figures out we're looking for evidence of her husband on drugs. Especially if she knows what he's been doing. She's going to cover for him."

"She could have thrown the drugs out by now." Ryan included.

"Slow down, you two." Captain Montgomery chuckled. "We're fishing. We're not accusing. Take a look around, gather information. If drugs aren't the issue, then find out what is."

"And Damon Clarke?" Beckett pressed. Having Captain Montgomery around already put her at ease. There was something about his presence that slowed everything down and gave her the time to delve deeper into the possible explanations. It must be the prudence in his words too that left Beckett in awe.

"I would love to consult more on this case, Beckett, but I think the mayor's calling." He gave her shoulder a fatherly pat. He turned on his heel, taking his phone out from his pocket. He said hello as he closed the door behind him.

Ryan rested his head on his arms, looking at Beckett. "What are you thinking, Beckett?" He asked, his ocean blue eyes going over her. "I want to go back to the crime scene." She replied quickly.

"And do what?"

"We already cleared that place. I'm thinking we could stake out there and see if Clarke comes back." Beckett ventured. "Need I remind you, Miss Beckett that that place was swarming with cops only three days ago?"

"Ryan," Kate smirked, drawing his name out. "Unless you want to become target practice anytime soon, don't call me Miss again. And yes, I realize that we might have scared him off, but look, old habits die hard. He's going to come back sometime soon to the place he's most comfortable with."

"You want us to try?"

"Exactly, Mr. Ryan. Exactly."

x x x

"I call shotgun!" Ryan yelled in the empty parking lot of the precinct. Esposito shoved him out of the way as he made a beeline for Beckett's car. "Not today, Kev. That seat's mine."

Ryan sped up. "I called it first, dimwit." He pushed Esposito and laughed.

Beckett strolled behind them in a calm manner, shaking her head at how quickly the transition between two adult men turned to eight year old boys on a candy rush.

She was still far behind when both of them met at the passenger side door and they were almost hitting each other just to clear the path. They still weren't done when she closed in on them. Beckett placed her hands inside her pockets as she observed them. Ryan and Esposito were oblivious to her just standing there. Beckett felt like she wasn't that hard to miss, but they were too busy arguing to notice anything else.

Finally, Esposito acknowledged her by turning around and saying, "I got to the door first, didn't I, Beckett?"

"Oh, don't pull that trick. Beckett heard me call shotgun."

"_Beckett_ is annoyed." Kate Beckett said, rolling her eyes.

Esposito shook his head and grabbed for the handle. Ryan blocked his hand, which started a staring contest between the two. "Give it up, Javy. I called it first and there isn't anything you can do about that." Ryan said through his teeth.

"It doesn't really mean anything now that I got to the door first." Esposito retorted. She knew they were playing around, but the game got old pretty fast. "Sure, you said shotgun, but now I'm here. It's a first-come-gets-seat kind of thing, dude."

"You are unbelievable."

"I don't see your name anywhere. Do you, Beckett?"

Beckett spread a thin smile. "No. I don't see Ryan's name." Esposito grinned too early. "But." She glanced at Esposito, ending his short-lived happiness. "I don't see yours either. You know what I do know? This car is registered to Katherine Beckett, issued by the NYPD."

Ryan and Esposito behaved like they were being reprimanded by the headmaster.

"And both of you are acutely aware that this car is close to falling apart. The department hasn't issued me another vehicle yet, so if my ride breaks down because the two of you can't act like mature adults—you won't be fearing 2012 when I'm done with the both of you."

Esposito opened his mouth but Beckett stopped him. "Katherine Beckett." She reminded not so gently. "Both of you. In the back."

"What?" Ryan looked dismayed. Like Beckett had told him to transfer to the rubber gun squad or anything. "You're making us ride back?" Esposito chimed in.

"Both of you. Back seat. _Now_."

x x x

"Still giving us the cold shoulder, Beckett?" Esposito leaned forward in between the space near Beckett's right shoulder. She looked at him briefly before returning her gaze to the road. She cleared her throat, but didn't say a word. She was going to let them sweat a little before she cleared the air.

Esposito allowed himself to be dragged back by his seatbelt, taking Beckett's silence as a yes. Ryan whispered, "She's obviously still pissed, man. Did you really have to ask that question?"

"At least I tried to do something. Stop complaining."

"Whatever."

"Besides, you started this. Look where it got us." Esposito whispered back.

"If you backed off when I called shotgun—"

A sound close to a puppy's yelp and man's groan came from the back seat. Beckett checked her rearview mirror. Ryan was bending down, his hand covering his leg. He was glaring at Esposito.

Esposito met her eyes in the mirror, totally guilty of kicking Ryan's leg just to get him to be quiet. She started to smile at the magnitude of the situation. Two little boys in the back seat—was she the only mature one left or something?

She stepped lightly on the brakes, breathing in relief when she saw the perfect parking space. It was right across the crime scene, but it wasn't conspicuous enough to attract anybody's attention. Beckett eased the car in the space. Satisfied, she turned off the engine. Beckett was still maintaining her stony silence when Ryan cleared his throat.

"You don't think we look too cop-ish, do you?"

Beckett smiled before turning around to face them. "Why, afraid something will give us away?"

"So she speaks." Esposito raised his hands to the sky and grinned.

"Oh, don't worry about our cover being blown, guys. I think all anyone would see in this car is a mother taking her two boys to the daycare center. Don't you agree?" Beckett shot back, giving them the sweetest smile she could muster.

Beckett turned away from them and returned to her previous position. There was silence between Ryan and Esposito. She assumed they were mentally debating whether she was for real or not. Teasing them was a lot of fun, especially when she knew how to hold a face. She started a countdown from ten, and waited to see what would happen.

Three... two... one...

"We're sorry, Beckett." Esposito said forlornly.

"Yeah. We really are." Ryan backed him up quickly.

She looked to her right, out to the crime scene, and smiled. She almost felt bad—they sounded awfully sincere.

After agonizing them even further by waiting an extra, precious seconds, Beckett breathed out heavily. "You wanted doughnuts, right, Espo?"

The car boomed with Esposito's relieved laughter. "Okay, so now we're even. And yes, I am looking for Bavarian doughnuts and I see a doughnut shop I can just skip over to. Fifty meters ahead."

Beckett nodded. "Great, because I need some really good coffee right now."

"Now we're talking." Ryan said in approval. "Grab me those little chocolate covered doughnut balls, too."

"Let's set up first, alright?" Beckett said tersely. She thought she saw a man cross the scene. "Esposito, get the laptop." He reached into the bag and pulled the slim device from its case. The screen glowed as Esposito turned it on and logged into the personalized laptop.

"Ryan, you tapped into the bank's camera system?" Beckett asked. "Yeah, I sure did—with some help from Tech. I cleared it with the bank. They said they were willing to help with whatever they could on the case."

"Good." She glanced at Esposito. "Ready?"

The rapid firing at the keyboard was his response, his face scrunching up to form a frown. He grumbled something unintelligent before turning over the laptop to Ryan's waiting hands. "Ugh, I don't know how that's supposed to work. You're the geek, bro. Go do your thing."

Ryan rolled his eyes, mocking Esposito with his stares. "My _thing_ could crack this case wide open. Watch your language." Ryan typed in a few keywords like he'd done it a million times before and they heard a click right after. "And that is how a geek does it. I just saved your ass, by the way." He looked pointedly at Esposito.

"Okay, okay. Gimme." Beckett reached out for it. When she pulled it to her, she saw the hazy black and white video quality and understood why Ryan asked for an aspirin for his headache after finishing the tapes. "Oh. Wow. Nice." She said, not even noticing the heavy sarcasm in her voice.

"You have every right to complain. Go right on." Ryan chuckled.

Beckett adjusted the screen's brightness and hoped that would do the video justice. The tip of the seatbelt was digging into her lower back, and she ignored it until it put too much strain and she moved it away. She rubbed the sore skin and was slightly startled when Esposito tapped her on the shoulder.

"Can I get the doughnuts now?"

Laughing, Beckett nodded and waved a hand off. "Please don't forget my coffee."

"And my chocolate balls." Ryan called out.

Esposito was bouncing on the sidewalk. He leaned down to stare at his partner. "Balls? Do you really think that's humane, man?"

"My chocolate covered balls, Esposito!"

"I aint getting no chocolate nuts." Esposito grinned.

"Esposito!"

"Okay. Out, Ryan." Beckett declared. "I don't need a recap of our earlier episode so here's what we're going to do. Both of you buy your whims, and both of you come back happy. I can handle things on my own. Besides, I need a moment of silence—from you two."

Ryan and Esposito looked at each other and then to her. Ryan's eyes widened as he hurriedly took hold of the car handle. "Classic Beckett look right there. She's serious."

"Damn right, I'm serious. Go, go, go." She shooed them off like stray dogs and they scurried away like ones too. Beckett laughed to herself, glancing out the window and back to the screen. They had an obstructed view of the exit where they caught Damon on camera, so the live feed really was like an extra set of eyes.

She leaned her elbow on the arm rest, alternating her gaze to anyone and everyone. She had started to master it when Esposito and Ryan came back with a box of doughnuts and three, steaming cups of hot coffee. Esposito stopped in front of the passenger side when Beckett shook her head. "Uh-uh. You two are still in detention. Back seat to the both of you fellas."

Ryan didn't seem to mind anymore and he laughed, entering the vehicle first. "Here is your coffee. Careful, I don't think the girl put the cap on tightly." He warned Beckett.

Beckett smiled. "Thanks." Esposito shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He set the box down on his lap before opening the cover. The sweet smell of freshly baked doughnuts filled the car, but it barely fazed Beckett. She usually had a sweet tooth, but surprisingly not today.

"I've got a question."

They both looked up. Esposito nodded for her to go on.

"Well, it's more of an observation but I'm sure there's a follow-up question in here somewhere. You guys have been... different."

"Listen, I know our clearance rate hasn't been up to par, but really, Ryan and I are working our butts off—" Esposito answered. "No, no, I don't mean work. I know you two are doing good on the cases."

"Then what did you mean?" Ryan asked and bit down on a small chocolate ball.

Beckett started out slowly. "You've been really nice to me these couple of weeks. Buying me lunch, doing my paper load, doing stuff on cases ahead of time... I'm not complaining at all. It's just that it's new territory to me coming from you guys. My detective gut tells me there's something subliminal under all this, but you can tell me right now whether I'm right or wrong."

"We know the past months haven't been easy on you and we just thought you could use our support. It's the least we could do for you, Beckett." Esposito answered. His eyes were gentle, sincere—not a hint that this was just a joke for them. Beckett was touched. She didn't know to reply exactly.

"You make it sound like you owe me something. Guys, you didn't have to do this." She said, smiling.

"Look, we've got each other's backs, right?" Ryan spoke, moving his body so he was looking at Beckett and Esposito. Esposito nodded firmly and Beckett said, "Always."

"But you know, sometimes at the end of a long day, all we wanna do is go home and sleep everything off. And we forget to ask how everybody's doing. And sometimes, not everyone's okay." Ryan looked at Beckett. "I got over my gun getting stolen because you talked to me all the way.

"With your help, my old partner is back with his family." Esposito mentioned Ike Thornton.

"Ryan, Esposito. I'm fine. You don't have to..."

"You see, Beckett, you're the kind who stands on both feet when you should be on the ground crying." Esposito said, his voice full of admiration. "That's something I find amazing. But you're _not_ okay—you're not alone either."

"You were always around for us. Now it's time we do the same." Ryan squeezed her hand and smiled. "We're going to get through this together, okay?"

Beckett chuckled, but it was so they wouldn't see she was beginning to tear up. "Gosh, when did you two turn so... sweet?"

"It happens." Esposito grinned and enveloped her in a tight hug.

Ryan was quiet until, "Guys, before we win an Emmy for this performance, just thought I'd let you know that there's someone snooping around our crime scene."

"What?" Beckett pulled away from Esposito and stared at the window. There was someone in a black shirt going through the bushes. He had his back to them, but Beckett could see he had blonde hair. "Let's go."

They opened their car doors in sync, releasing the clip on their holster. Their hands were ready to pull the firearm out at anytime needed. The side of the road had less walking traffic so nobody really turned their gaze to their direction. Beckett motioned for Ryan to run back to cover the exit near the camera. She signalled to Esposito to follow her lead.

The man was still busy hovering over the bushes to notice them. That was to their advantage as they closed in on him noiselessly. Ryan appeared at the exit, meeting Beckett's eyes as they got to position. Their guns were ready.

"NYPD! Stop what you're doing and put your hands on your head." Beckett ordered.

He froze. He looked at the nearest escape route, but his hopes were crushed when Ryan looked at him defiantly. "Do as she says. Come on."

"That's not Damon Clarke. He had brown hair." Esposito whispered.

Beckett had already realized this and she was curious as to who this person was. The unidentified male raised his shaking hands to the back of his head. His shoulders heaved with every breath. "He's just a kid." Ryan told them, though not lowering his weapon.

"Turn around." Beckett said.

When he didn't, Esposito took a step forward. "Turn around!"

Beckett stopped him from going any further, saying, "You've got three guns pointed at you. If you don't want this to end badly, I suggest you listen to us."

He turned around, slowly, until he was facing Beckett and Esposito. Beckett's mouth fell open, and she lowered her gun immediately. "Ethan?" She asked in disbelief. The hair that looked like it was spun from gold and the blue eyes didn't lie. "Lower your weapons. This is Mr. Shapiro's student."

Ryan walked up behind Ethan to be sure he didn't go anywhere. "What are you doing here?" Beckett demanded.

"N-nothing." He answered quickly, his eyes on his feet.

"This is where your teacher was murdered. What are you doing here?" She asked again. It was so obvious that he was hiding something from them. He came to the crime scene after all.

"I told you, it's nothing."

"What happened to your arm?" Esposito pointed to the bruise. Ethan covered it with his other hand and shook his head. "I don't know."

"We're taking you back to the precinct." Beckett was convinced he knew something he wasn't telling them. "We'll call your parents and we'll have them meet you there."

"C'mon." Esposito firmly gripped his shoulder, walking him back to the car. "Ryan, take a quick look in the bushes. See if you can find what he was looking for." Ryan nodded and took off. Beckett caught up with them and stood on the other side.

"Am I under arrest?" Ethan asked them weakly.

"No. But guess what, you're in for a treat. You'll be sitting passenger side." Esposito glanced knowingly at Beckett with a small smile. She smiled back, but her mind was far away. What was Ethan doing? What was he looking for? Was he involved?

She paused on the sidewalk to make a call when two conversing voices caught her attention. "Rick Castle was so nice. He took the time to talk to me _and_ he said he would look out for me at his next book event. I mean, I almost melted into a puddle! God, he's gorgeous."

"If I hadn't called you up, you would never have met your Mr. Dreamy novelist, Heather."

"I know, I know. I'm eternally grateful. But I can't get over it!" She giggled.

Beckett watched the two women from the corner of her eye. The one named Heather was pretty, more slender than her petite friend. And she was sure she heard right.

Rick Castle.

They passed by behind her, and Beckett pretended to be busy.

"His smile, Miranda. Castle's smile is what every girl wants to wake up to. Seriously. He is a hunk of perfection! He even made out a little note to me on my book. And he complimented me on how I looked—he was so sweet."

"What'd he say that got your panties in a knot?" The woman named Miranda teased.

"It wasn't like that. He was a perfect gentleman to me."

"Oh, don't get too carried away, Heather. I've heard he's a player."

"Maybe you heard wrong. The way he was treating me didn't seem like he was the type. You should have seen how sincere he was to me—like I've known him all his life. I'm telling you, he's _perfect_."

One of them laughed. "Well, I'm glad a part of your fairytale came true."

They were getting further and further away, and it was taking Beckett every muscle of restraint to not follow them around and listen in on their conversation. She heard the mention of his name over and over until they turned a corner. And all Beckett heard was the pounding in her ears. Her heart was fired up and she didn't know why she was feeling so strongly about what she just heard.

As Beckett tried to relax before going back to the car, she accepted one thing. Esposito was right—she wasn't okay.


	14. I ache for you

**Author's Note: **Review, guyssssss. Pretty please. :)

* * *

><p>Ethan Harris ran his hand through his blonde hair impatiently. Though the trail it left behind remained unruffled, the look on his face was way below the happy meter.<p>

"You're not going to reach my parents. You do know that by now, right?"

Beckett shrugged. "Well, our resources are very good at locating people."

Esposito was walking in circles around Ethan when he said, "We'd like for your parents to know what's been happening." Ethan turned in his seat to look at him angrily. "What's been happening? You guys caught me walking around in Central Park and now I'm in a police station. That make any sense to you?"

"Actually, it does."

"Oh then, educate me as to why I'm being treated like some criminal." Ethan shot back. "I told you everything that I knew when you came to our school. I'm not stupid—I have rights."

"Okay, then exercise your rights on this." Esposito put an evidence bag on the table, his hard eyes fixed on Ethan. He leaned to look inside the plastic and Beckett watched for any signs of anxiety or nervousness. It usually is present with suspects who are confronted with evidence that implicate themselves. "Does that look familiar?" Beckett asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I thought you said I wasn't under arrest."

"I did." Esposito nodded. "You're not under arrest. We're just asking questions, and we've got the whole interview taped. So if you have reason to believe that we are violating your terms on coming here, then we can go over the video and you can do what you want. But really, we're just asking."

Beckett crossed her arms. "Detective Esposito's right, Ethan. These are all just questions, which is why there is no need for a lawyer around."

Ethan eyed her and gulped. He didn't look so confident now.

"But questions have answers." Beckett continued, looking him in the eyes. "And right now you're not giving us any. So what are we supposed to think?"

Esposito stopped beside his chair and bent low enough to cause a look of discomfort to mark on Ethan's face. He squirmed in his seat, not daring to look at Esposito. "What were you doing at the crime scene?"

"I didn't know it was a crime scene!"

"You're telling me you didn't see it on the evening news." Beckett deadpanned. "Your teacher was killed and you didn't research or anything like that. Ethan, my patience is wearing out."

"You know something and you're not telling us what it is. So that makes me think of two things." Esposito said. "Either you're protecting someone or you know the truth—the whole truth about what happened. But both roads end up the same, you know. It means you had something to do with the murder."

Ethan almost stood up of his chair. "You're crazy. I would never hurt Mr. Shapiro. _Never!_"

The veins in his neck were popping, and Beckett was almost surprised to see how violent he reacted. She'd seen people defend themselves, blurting out statements without a single breath in between. But the way Ethan was acting felt strange to her. It was off… Beckett witnessed lack of emotions but this time there was too much. It was taking over the entire mood of the room.

"But you know who did." Esposito calmly countered. He was working a strategy to see if Ethan would bite. If he played along, then Beckett and Esposito might be on the right track, but if he dismisses it, then they need another angle to work on.

His eyes watered and his lower lip trembled. She knew that look—Ethan was going to burst. She just hoped it would be to their advantage.

"Mr. Shapiro has been my homeroom teacher since Freshman year. He's been with me and my class for our entire high school ride." Ethan's voice shook with emotion. "So believe me, if I knew who murdered him, I would tell you."

He looked and sounded genuine. Even Beckett was moved by how clearly he loved his teacher. She, of course, put on her best poker face and remained objective. Beckett didn't think he was lying, but he wasn't being totally open to them. She needed to know what he knew, so Beckett had to keep pushing to get the answers. "I need you to understand, Ethan, that what you know could move this case forward. We could finally solve this case if you just help us."

"I want to help you, but I don't know anything. I don't know."

Beckett propped her elbows on the table and her hands reached to scrub her cheeks. She was going to have to try harder to get him to talk. She looked at him, putting her most trusting face on. "Ethan, tell us what you were doing there. Give us that."

"You're right." He nodded after some time. "I knew that was where Mr. Shapiro… I didn't even want to be there. It made me want to throw up thinking that I was walking on the same ground the killer did. It was curiosity. I-I know it sounds ridiculous but I wondered if maybe you guys missed something. I only wanted to help."

"Are you sure?" Esposito asked and sat down beside Beckett. She glanced at Esposito. "You weren't there because you were looking for this?" Esposito lifted the small evidence bag. The dark piece of clothing with part of a letter sewn onto it clung to the plastic. The partial letter 'G' meant a whole lot more to them now than the first time.

"It's a letter—why-why would I be interested in that?" Ethan asked.

"The 'G' here is followed by 'A' and then 'Y' and then 'N'… Gaynor, Ethan. That's your school."

"So what?" Ethan's voice levelled up again. "It's a school jacket. Everyone who goes to Stephen Gaynor has that jacket. It's the same print, same color and we all get new ones every school year. It doesn't mean anything."

"It will mean something if we find your jacket with a big hole where this letter was supposed to be." Beckett replied, keeping him level with her eyes. "And then you're going to have some explaining to do."

"_If_ you find my jacket." Ethan said through gritted teeth. "I'll tell you where it is—it's in my closet at home. But I'm guessing you won't find it because you don't have a warrant to even step inside my house."

"So you know a thing or two about the law. Doesn't mean we stop there."

Ethan stood up and pushed his hands into his pockets. "Look, I'm done being nice and trying to help you out. I'm in high school but it doesn't mean I'm clueless when someone points fingers at me. You seriously still think I had something to do with this?"

Beckett tried to reason with him. "Sit down, Ethan."

"No."

"Sit down. I have one more question."

"Why should I?"

"Because you care too much about your teacher to let this go." Beckett answered. "Deep inside, you don't want to walk away from knowing more."

Esposito slipped a picture of Damon Clarke on the table, and he and Beckett waited for Ethan to react. "Do you recognize him?"

"Who's this?"

"So that's a no." Esposito sighed. "Are you sure you've never seen him before?"

"No disrespect, Detective, but you've been asking me all this time if I'm sure. I've never seen the guy before, I'm freaking _sure_ about that." Ethan remained in his position. "What, am I supposed to know he is? Who the hell is this guy anyways?"

"He's a drug dealer." Beckett said nonchalantly. "That's all we can say."

Ethan took a step back and muttered, "Unbelievable. So first you accuse me of murdering Mr. Shapiro and now your next story is that I'm selling drugs." He was looking at them with contempt. "I watch enough procedural shows to tell you that this interview—is over."

His huge steps landed him out of the room at once, and he didn't turn around. They could hear his hurrying footsteps down the hall. Beckett stretched, placing her hands at the back of her head where she leaned back. Esposito was shaking his head as if he couldn't get believe how hard it was to crack a sixteen year old. He closed the folder, sighing. "Better luck to us next time."

"It wasn't that bad, now that you think of it." Beckett said to him. "Now we know that he's definitely hiding something and I bet he knows exactly what we haven't uncovered about Mr. Shapiro. If he's determined to keep it under wraps to the point that he gets charged with obstruction of justice, then we know we hit a nerve."

Ryan walked into the room and nodded at them. "Hey."

"Hey, Ryan. Any luck finding Ethan's parents?" Beckett asked.

"Looks like the kid was telling the truth about this one. His mother is doing a photoshoot in London—I spoke with her agent—and Mr. Harris is in Seattle performing open heart surgery on an A-list patient. Can't get to either of them."

Beckett frowned. "Oh. Alright. Um, keep tracking Damon Clarke. He's the missing piece. Meanwhile, I'll try and talk to Mr. Shapiro's wife and see if I can score a ticket to their home."

They got to working on their assignments right away. None of them wanted to miss another minute. It was half past six when Ryan answered a phone call that had them all hoping it was the break they needed. "Uh-huh… Right, that's the plate I put a BOLO out on… Where did you find it?... Clarke wasn't there?... Okay, thanks Jameson. Have CSU on the car and call me if there's anything interesting… Thanks. Bye."

"Well?" Esposito immediately wanted to know. Ryan put the phone down and shook his head, though he looked hopeful enough. "Clarke's car got pulled over for a speeding ticket except the person driving wasn't Clarke. It was some bookie who claimed that Clarke let him borrow the car for the afternoon." He explained. "They're questioning him right now. Let's just wait and see if the car tells us where Clarke is hiding."

Beckett had to smile. It was good to hear something promising after being stonewalled for the past days. "Follow up on that, Ryan." She told him. "Esposito, find out everything you can about Shapiro."

"We already have a file, Beckett."

"I mean, go back to when he was a kid. See if he was ever sent to juvie or charged with anything. Check if there were any files that were thrown out of court or something that's sealed. Maybe something in his past interfered with his present."

Beckett's telephone rang. "Beckett."

"_Hello, you called earlier. It's Julia Smith." _

"Ms. Smith, thank you for calling me back. You got my message?"

"_Yes, I did. Daniella asked me to watch over the house for a couple of days while she went out of town. But she didn't tell me where she was going and I don't like to pry." _

"I see. Do you know when she'll be back?"

"_Oh, her flight's scheduled to be here in about an hour and a half or so. I'll tell her you called." _

"That won't be necessary but thank you."

"_Uh, Detective Beckett, do you know who killed Daniella's husband yet? He was a good man—they were wonderful people. So sad seeing her like this."_

"We're doing the best that we can to find the person responsible." Beckett replied. "Thank you again for all your help."

"Well, the wife's out of New York." Beckett hung up and told Ryan and Esposito.

"Not really the best time to leave. It's only been four days since her husband was murdered." Esposito commented. Beckett opened up Daniella Shapiro's finances and raised a hand. "I got a plane ticket here to Oklahoma. What's there?"

Ryan opened up folders that were on his desk, his lips moving as he read the information written down. "Louie Shapiro was born in Oklahoma, and he moved here when he was twelve. The parents still live there."

"So she could be visiting them to tell them what happened to their son." Beckett said, resigned. She stood up, taking her car keys and her jacket.

"Where are you going?" Ryan asked.

"I'm gonna take a spin. Clear my head. Got a lot going right now." She chuckled. "I'll set my watch so I'll catch Daniella as she heads home from the airport. I'll see you guys later."

**x x x**

"NYPD's finest! Drinks are on the house!" Castle exclaimed when Ryan and Esposito walked into The Old Haunt. He wiped down the counter and grinned as they took their seats on the stools in front of him.

"Hey, Castle. It's good to see you." Ryan said, laughing.

"We missed you, bro." Esposito added, patting the counter with his hand. Castle expertly poured quality beer into tall mugs and handed it to them without the beer sloshing over. "You have no idea how badly I want to be working on a case." Castle said to them.

"Oh, I've got a case for you. There's woman up at 9th that calls the precinct every morning claiming that her reading glasses are missing. Guess where they are." Esposito grinned.

"On top of her head?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nope. She ate them four years ago but she can't remember. So she thinks someone stole them and files a report every day."

"What?" Castle asked in disbelief but despite the absurdity he laughed. "She _ate_ her glasses? Why in the world did she do that?"

"Do I look like I stayed around to find out?" Esposito retorted.

Castle shook his head. "Geez, she ate the glasses."

Esposito drank his beer but stopped halfway as a laugh came on. Some beer trailed down his chin as he grinned. "Told you, Castle, it's a good case."

He slapped them jokingly on the cheek, though Ryan evaded his hand by ducking down low enough. They laughed a little more until Castle offered to refill their empty mugs. "Another round?"

"No more for me." Ryan smiled and shook his head.

"Yeah, me too. But thanks."

Castle took their mugs away and frowned slightly. "You guys still on the clock?"

"No, we, uh, we ended our shift an hour ago." Esposito answered. Castle looked curiously at his two friends. "Then why are you holding back?"

"Because," Ryan sighed. "We might get called out in the middle of the night and I can't deal with a hangover right now. Case is already driving me nuts."

Castle stopped fidgeting and leaned onto the counter behind him with his arms crossed. "Really? Tell me about it."

They looked at each other in hesitation before Esposito said, "Well, technically, you don't work with us anymore, man. And certain privileges aren't available anymore."

"Like talking to me about your cases." Castle understood, feeling disappointed. This alone was enough of a reason to want things to be different. He felt like an outsider—someone who sticks his nose in police business with no idea of how things really function. And somehow it felt like it was only yesterday when he put on that Kevlar vest.

When he lost Beckett, he also lost the job and the people he'd come to love over the years.

Ironically, it sometimes felt normal again. He'd talk to Lanie everyday and Castle would invite Ryan and Esposito for drinks. Then something like this happens and you get a kick from reality.

"Sorry man." Esposito looked at him apologetically. Castle forced a smile and attempted to laugh the whole thing off. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried to push the lump down his throat. He really needed to get a hold of himself. Castle turned around and pushed liquor bottles backward. Clearly, they didn't need arranging—but he moved them around anyways. It was better than having to fight back tears in front of his best friends.

The bar was quiet as Ryan and Esposito understood the gravity of the situation and politely pretended that the picture frame of Castle riding a bicycle was the most eye-catching thing ever.

"You know, um," Castle started, still facing the rows of liquor in front of him. "This is as awkward for me as I'm sure it is for you. And I'm sorry for making it what it is." Castle faced them with a tired smile and shrugged. "It's going to be two months next week. I mean, I understand why it's hard for you to be the same around me. Honestly, my detective skills have been a little rusty now."

Esposito and Ryan simply looked back at him as if they understood that nothing they say or do will change what he was feeling. If they were giving him the go signal to keep on talking, then he was taking it. "So," He scratched his head. "How is she?"

Esposito smiled a little smile. "Like you wouldn't know? Lanie tells me you call her everyday to ask."

"Yeah, but Lanie's down at the morgue all the time. You guys don't miss out on anything with her. So why don't you tell me?"

"She's… She's not so good." Ryan answered openly. "Beckett tries really hard to do the, uh, the right thing. But she needs time, Castle."

He nodded. "Right. Time. It's not a problem. I'll wait." Castle smiled. "Time does make the heart grow fonder."

"But it's not really how long it's going to take, is it?" Esposito looked at him directly. "I know you, Castle, you're going to stick around. It's not being with her that drives you mad."

"I miss her. I really, really miss her." Castle took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "And there's just nothing that would make up for that. If I could get the chance to jump back in and make things right again—"

"You still don't think it was your fault, right?" Esposito asked him sternly. "You did what you thought was best for her, and you shouldn't be sorry for that. Josh was the idiot, and he still is to me. Look, you made a choice that blew up in your face but that doesn't mean you're wrong."

"You cared about Beckett more than Josh ever did because you _stayed_ when he left. And even when she asked you to walk away, you didn't. And don't think for a second, Castle, that she doesn't know that." Ryan said. "Beckett will always be Beckett. She'll be tough and she won't let you down easy—but she knows you're there. You have no idea how much that means to her."

"Though one day, Castle, you're going to have to tell her how much _she_ means to _you_."

"I think she knows."

"I think she's afraid." Esposito said seriously. "Afraid that you might be for real."

Castle looked confused. "Well, I am. I'm serious about this… about her."

Ryan jumped in his stool. "And it is seriously creeping me out how we're talking about Beckett and she calls." He flipped his phone open. "Yeah, this is Ryan… Yeah, I'm with Esposito… What? Where did they find him?... Oh, you've got to be kidding me… This is rich." Ryan laughed. "No, not at all. We don't mind… Okay, see you. Bye."

"They found Damon Clarke." Ryan said excitedly, already on his feet. Esposito had the perfect look of surprise on his face as he followed Ryan. "What? Just now?" '

"Yeah. You won't believe how they caught him."

"Try me."

"He called 911."

"Damon Clarke called 911?"

"He did."

Castle, feeling miserably left out, raised a hand that stopped their conversation. "Uh, excuse me, is Damon Clarke a baddie?"

Esposito nodded. "We think he's our killer." He and Ryan were already huddled at the door. "Don't tell the press I said that."

"Yeah. Scout's honor." Castle nodded, then looked longingly at them. He wished he knew what was going on, or who the heck Damon Clarke was. He wanted back in the loop again, you know? He used to be need-to-know. Now he just didn't know.

"Thanks for the beer, Castle! Good seeing you!" Ryan yelled, standing outside the door. He waved. "Yeah, thanks, Castle. We'll do this again, alright?" Esposito said, his foot out the door. Castle could tell he was itching to leave him, so he let them go.

"Sure, guys. Next time." He flashed the detectives a limp smile. The bell jingled as the door closed and Castle watched their shadows play up the stairs until they disappeared. The bell stopped ringing, and he was left to stand in the middle of an empty and quiet bar.

He felt unintentionally abandoned. But still—abandoned.

He stared at the door and waited for someone else to walk in. After a few minutes, he thought maybe he was jinxing it.

Castle didn't bother to put the 'Closed' signage on the door. Instead, he poured himself a glass of beer and closed his eyes.

For the moment that his eyes were shut, he let himself be slipped away by the light feeling that turned on him. He raised the glass to his nose and inhaled the smell of good beer.

Castle opened his eyes and he was back to the empty and quiet bar.

Sure that no one else was around, he smiled and said to himself, "Cheers." Then he knocked back the glass and drank it all in one gulp.

**x x x**

"The girl you tried to kill—she's in the hospital and she's alive. Officers are taking her statement right now." Beckett informed the drunken man sitting in front of her. He reeked of tequila, and seeing the stains on his shirt, she guessed he was doing body shots before they interrupted his night of fun.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Can you tone down the lights in here or something?"

"Killing people seems to be a running gag for you, isn't it, Damon?"

"I didn't… mmdin't kill 'nybody." He slurred and put his head down on the table to rest.

Beckett pursed her lips and hit her hand on the table, causing him to sit straight up. "Sober up, Damon. This is going to be long night."

"Why the hell did you that? Ugh, my head's all messed up." Damon Clarke grabbed his head and moaned.

"Too many to drink tonight, I see."

"Take it from me, 'Tective. You could use a night like this one."

Beckett crossed her arms and looked at him. "A night of murder—I'm sorry, _attempted_ murder—I think I can do without a night like yours."

"I didn't kill her." He chuckled, still drunk. But his demeanor had improved from when uniforms picked him up. She picked up the report they sent to her and gave the file a once over. "You're right, you didn't kill her. You just tried to. Let me see, you hit her with a broken bottle. She was on the ground, then you choked her." Beckett gave him an icy glare. "Doesn't really collaborate with your 'I didn't kill her' line."

Damon smoothed his messy hair down. His bright blue eyes would have been beautiful to look at, but they were bloodshot and swimming with alcohol. "She hit me first. I was defending myself."

"Mm-hmm."

"I was defending myself."

"Of course you were. So hitting her once wasn't enough?"

"The bitch chipped my tooth when she pummelled her cheap heels to my face!"

"And this was when? After you forced yourself on her?" Beckett met his eyes and held a stare. He didn't answer to that and he was smart enough to shut up. Damon seemed more alert now, and she was grateful that the severity of what happened opened his eyes.

"I called 911, didn't I?"

Beckett faked a laugh. "Oh, we're still going with this?"

"You know, you're not being fair. Just because I got a record, you look at me for all the faults. Come on." Damon said. "She attacked me."

"Right." Beckett said in a clip tone. She was done with the warm-up and was now ready to play ball. "I'm sure another detective will attend to your needs. At this moment, I'd like to tell you I'm charging you for the murder of Louie Shapiro."

Beckett could see him blowing a fuse as her words reached him. He looked lost for about a minute, then he recovered. He fidgeted and looked at Beckett, though it seemed like he wanted to say something. She smiled at him. "Good. I finally got you to shut up. So before you start claiming that you haven't heard of him or start swearing that you've never met him—here's a picture. Look closely before you answer me, Damon, because one wrong move could land you in a prison bus in ten minutes. Clear?"

She put his picture on the table. He picked it up with his dirty fingers and stared at Louie's smiling portrait. Beckett watched him put the enlarged photo down after mere seconds. Damon took a deep breath and looked at her. "Can I say something… Detective?"

Her eyes narrowed, and Beckett wondered what exactly he was up to.

"You're crazy. All of you are crazy. Just thought I should tell you that."

"Not as crazy as you, Damon. Killing someone with your own drug?" Beckett shook her head. "Bad move."

"My own drug? Look, I know you've dug up my history. You know I've done time for drugs." Damon gave Beckett an arrogant sneer. "But I didn't discover cocaine, meth or heroin. I traffic them, I'll tell you that. I sell them to all kinds of people. I don't have my own drug. If I did, I'd be one lucky son of a bitch."

Son of bitch, yeah, she agreed. Lucky, not so much. Beckett wanted to say.

"Did you sell to him?"

"Nope. I haven't seen him before. And I certainly couldn't have murdered someone I haven't met." He smiled like he'd already gotten away with the crime. But Beckett didn't give up easily. "Not necessarily. But the thing is, we have more than just evidence of Blue Flame. We have video of you at the crime scene. Once my warrant comes through and we find the syringe you used and we match it to the puncture wound we found—you're done. Help yourself and come clean."

"You're not fooling me with that. I got nothing to do with this."

Something tickled Beckett's brain, and she decided to try something out. "How about this? You didn't sell to him, okay. Did you sell to kids?"

Damon grinned. "You know I can't answer that without getting into trouble, Detective."

"Listen to me, Damon. If you don't start giving me the answers you know, I will tear your whole life piece by piece until I find out. That means talking to everyone you've ever so much as breathed on." Beckett said defiantly. "And I'm sure a lot of them won't be pleased that you've allowed a bunch of cops to ask the wrong questions—if you know what I mean."

He nibbled on his lip, lines of perplexity marring his face. Damon Clarke smiled nervously at Beckett. "Got any kid in particular?"

Beckett felt relieved and she nodded in approval. After asking the officer outside to take the yearbook to them, she flipped the pages to where the students of Mr. Shapiro were. They were all there, all twenty-two of them, smiling radiant smiles. Damon looked down on the colored pictures.

Beckett crossed her fingers and hoped that this would lead them somewhere. She couldn't deal with another wall blocking her every move on this case.

"Hypothetically, you—"

She looked at him with one eyebrow arched. _"Hypothetically?"_

"Just go with me, alright? You want to know what I know, right?"

Beckett sighed. She didn't want to, but it didn't feel like she had a lot of options. "Fine. Go on."

"So I was saying, hypothetically, if I recognized one of these kids from somewhere… what would that mean?"

"What would it mean for the case or what would it mean for you?"

"Well, I'm trying to be nice 'cause you're really pretty." He laughed. "So if you don't mind answering both…"

She remained unfazed at his shot at flattery, though it stroke her ego nicely. She looked at him. "I can't talk about the case to a suspect, sorry. But for you—I don't know yet what's going to happen."

"Do you mean I'm taking my chances on something I might even get time for? Seriously?" Damon drummed his fingers on the table as he grinned. "Are you convincing me to back out of this?"

"If you help me, maybe I'll tell the DA you cooperated. Take it or leave it."

"You don't waste any time, do you?" Damon commented and went back to turning the pages. After awhile, he nodded and pointed to a face in the book. "Him. I've seen him before."

Beckett pulled the yearbook back to her. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she recognized the face. _Ethan Harris._ "Did you sell drugs to him?"

"No, but I've seen him."

"Where?"

"Let's say, hypothetically, I was at the park that night where that guy was killed. Hypothetically, I was looking for customers. I heard some noises, and I hid behind some trees—hypothetically. That's when I hypothetically saw him."

"And you're sure?"

"Positive."

"What was he wearing, Damon? In the hypothetical sense."

"I don't know, some university jacket or something. Hypothetically, it was really dark."

Beckett couldn't piece all the information back yet, but she was sure that this sent her reeling to the wall. She looked at Damon and judged if he was being truthful or not. He returned her stare, smiling. "I left before it was too late, Detective. That kid? He wasn't there alone. He was hypothetically with your dead man. They were going at it pretty loudly. When I was gone, they were still there—and they looked about ready to throw some punches at each other."

Kate Beckett wisely didn't respond. Ethan's face appeared in her head, and a possibility that never occurred to her did at that interval. Ethan was with Mr. Shapiro before he died and he was probably one of the people who last saw him alive. Why would he lie about being there? Unless…

"Hey, Detective, I know that look on your face. So, do you still think _I_ murdered him?"


	15. And I realize

**Author's Note: **Sorry I took so long. School and all. Hope you like this chapter. :)

* * *

><p>Beckett felt her blood boiling as she hissed her instructions to the uniform watching Damon Clarke. Damon would have to spend a night in the cage since he was still under suspicion of the murder. And it would be better for them since they wouldn't have to worry about him too.<p>

She walked to them with a thunderous look marred on her face. She dumped her folders on her chair with a grunt and ran her hand brusquely through her hair. Ryan and Esposito stopped what they were doing and waited for her to calm down.

"He played us."

Ryan was first to react. "Who?" Beckett began to pace across the floor, her eyebrows meeting. "Ethan Harris. He told us his little story and we rammed into it—hell, I fell for it!"

"Hold on, Beckett. What exactly happened in interrogation?" Esposito stood up.

"I don't have the time to tell the tale, okay, but what I do know is that we were right about something. Ethan and Mr. Shapiro were together at the crime scene, but I don't think Ethan intended for it to happen. I've worked up this theory and it's the best one I've got." Beckett said hurriedly. "Ethan was there for the drugs—even if scumbag Clarke won't admit to it. Mr. Shapiro must have caught on to him and followed him there. They had a fight, Ethan's shirt got torn in the process and he killed Mr. Shapiro."

"That's what he was doing at the crime scene? Looking for the piece of evidence that would link him to the murder?"

"Yes. He never told us that he was there because he was the last person to see Mr. Shapiro alive—and the first one to see him dead."

Esposito crossed his arms and looked at Beckett intently. "And you got all this from Clarke?" She nodded. "Basically, yeah."

"Come on, you can't believe a single thing that guy says. He'll feed you anything to get you off his back."

"It's a gut feeling, Esposito." Beckett replied. "And that same gut feeling has saved me from death more than I can count, so I'm not letting this one go." She glanced at Ryan, who didn't comment, but seemed to be on the same page with Esposito. She sighed softly before turning to them imploringly. "Look, the chances of me being wrong are big. But this is the only thing so far that has made sense and lately, I haven't been getting that. So please, I'm asking you to just test the waters and help me because I can't do it without you."

Esposito relaxed and dropped his arms to side. Even Ryan's skeptical glare in his eyes shifted to a softer side. She started to say something again when a shaky voice interrupted them. Beckett looked behind her and was surprised to see—not Ethan—but a boy about his age. He had straight, brown hair that curled at the ends and it was long enough to brush over his eyes. His skin was pale that Beckett worried he was sick, but his lips were a healthy pink color. She could almost feel him trembling despite how much he tried to show he wasn't.

"You're… you're Detective Beckett?" The waver in his voice was gone but he didn't seem any more comfortable with three detectives looking at him warily. She wanted to be on the move—looking for Ethan, really—but there was something with him standing there asking for her that made her stop.

"Who's asking?" She threw the question back, her tone not innocuous.

"Jonathan, shut the hell up!"

They all jumped at the commanding voice and saw Ethan leading the group of his classmates. Many more were boarding off the elevator. The next seconds went by so quickly. The victim's entire class was crowding in their bullpen and voices were getting louder and louder. Three officers glistening with sweat came up to Beckett, breathless. "How did this happen?" Esposito demanded, addressing the closest one near to him.

"They came in so fast. It was like a thirty foot wave coming down on us. We tried to stop them, Detective, but they pushed us out of the way easily."

"And they're kids; we couldn't just pull out our weapons on them." The third officer inserted.

Captain Montgomery stepped out from his office. "What in heaven—will someone explain to me why a _mob_ is in my building?"

"We've got it under control, Cap." Ryan answered.

Beckett heard them but the words flew by her like nothing. She was hearing, not listening. The noise level around her was so disturbing that she had to take control. A couple of the kids were yelling and the sight of Ethan's face set Beckett off. She put two fingers inside her mouth and let out a high pitched whistle that stunted everyone in the room.

"Unless you all came here because you wanted your names in the criminal database, I strongly suggest you keep quiet. All of you." Beckett said when the air was silent. "Now I don't know what's going on but I know that one of you is going to tell me _right now_."

The boy named Jonathan appeared firmer in his unseen convictions as he turned to look at her. "I'm here because—"

"Don't be stupid!" Ethan blurted out, looking enraged. His friends didn't hold him back, but he kept his distance like he knew that would be for the best. "You're throwing everything away!"

"Ethan, I mean it." Beckett said carefully but a glare didn't miss him. "If you don't shut it for the next five seconds, there won't be any attempts to talk it out. I will put each of you in handcuffs and in cells until I get enough peace and quiet for someone to tell me what is going on.

Captain Montgomery crossed his arms, not interjecting. Beckett's words worked though, because everyone started to look less defiant than when they came in. Maybe she'd gone a bit overboard but she was sick of running in circles. Besides, they weren't little children that had to be protected from the truth. In fact, she felt that she had to hear the truth from them.

Jonathan's shoulders were slumped forward, his eyes trained on the floor. "Jonathan, what are you doing here?" Beckett finally got to ask.

Everybody held their breath in the room as they were met with silence. He pulled at the bottom of his shirt before raising his eyes to meet Beckett's. He had warm brown eyes, trusting, at that point. But if one looked closely one could see the pain and the fear that seemed renewed as seconds ticked. "You were about to say something to me. What was it?" She asked again, giving him the last push.

His eyes locked with Beckett. Even she felt time halt before his words left his mouth.

"I killed Mr. Shapiro."

Ethan broke free from his friends' grasp. His expression was surprisingly sad. "Jon, come on. Don't say that. Don't say anything."

"They have to know the truth, Ethan."

"What you're saying isn't the truth!"

"Then what is the truth?" Beckett asked, transferring her glare from one boy to the other.

Seeing that Ethan was set on keeping his mouth closed, she moved to Jonathan—who looked so uncertain about what he was going to do that Beckett knew that would be to her advantage.

"Jonathan?" She took the edge off her voice. "Hey, Jonathan, answer me. What happened to Mr. Shapiro?"

When he didn't answer, Beckett swallowed the sack of profanities down her throat. "That's it. Everybody, in the break room. Now."

Esposito and Ryan started moving the kids forward; to which Beckett was relieved. She thought she had to do everything around here. Getting someone to admit to a crime had never been this complicated. Ethan prudently followed Beckett's instructions without a peep coming from him and again, Beckett found this uplifting. She had no idea how to deal with any of their useless crap at the moment.

Captain Montgomery retired back to his office, but not before sending Beckett a look that said, _Solve this case before the night ends_.

She collected herself first, shutting out any looks coming from detectives who wondered what or how she was going to find the bottom of the mess. Beckett blocked the same thoughts from breaking into her head. Her hand found the table and she leaned on it momentarily as she quickly process what had been revealed.

After mere minutes, she strode to the break room where several law enforcement members had to temporarily evacuate for the students to fill their seats. The small room could barely hold them in. Nevertheless, Esposito and Ryan made it work.

Beckett burst into the room, convinced that she was confident.

Ryan and Espo posted themselves on either side of the room. Beckett squeezed herself in the middle of the table and the counter before she spoke.

"Let me make this simple for all of you. Nobody is leaving until I hear the truth. You know why I can do that?" Beckett addressed to no one specific. "Because you come barging into our workplace, raising your voices and disrupting detectives who are catching murderers and yet none of you can even dare to tell me why. You chose to come here, and I choose to let no one go."

Jonathan and Ethan were seated with one student as their Switzerland, and both of them hung their heads low. Beckett frowned. "Do you know what I can't understand? We are doing everything that we can to find who murdered your teacher but it seems like you don't want to help at all. Is it because you're all guilty? Or are you protecting the killer who's inside the very room right now?"

"We didn't kill Mr. Shapiro. Stop accusing us because we didn't do it." Ethan replied, his face troubled. "Then kindly point me in the direction of the person who did, Ethan."

The silence came again. The slow, infuriating silence.

For the first time that hour, Jonathan and Ethan looked at each other with no evidence of hatred or anger—but with agreement. And that pissed Beckett a lot because they looked like they had come to an understanding and she didn't understand what the hell it all meant. Really, one of them better start talking in the next 30 seconds.

"It was that drug dealer." Ethan exhaled. "The guy you showed me. He killed Mr. Shapiro."

Beckett found his eyes. "You said you didn't know him."

"I lied."

"Clearly. Why?"

"Look, I… I can't. I can't tell you." He replied, stretching his hands out. That's when Beckett caught a glimpse at the bruise on his wrist. She'd seen it before, but with everything that's gone down, Beckett felt it was necessary to turn every stone over. "You can't tell me why you lied. Fine. Tell me what happened to your wrist."

He covered it up and shook his head. "This is nothing."

She picked a stupid angle, but an angle it still was. "Did Mr. Shapiro hurt you, Ethan? Did he do that? Is that why you had to defend yourself—by killing him?"

"What? No! No, Mr. Shapiro never hurt me. He never hurt any of us. He was only trying to…"

Beckett pounced on him. "Trying to what? Answer me. Trying to what?"

Jonathan leaned in and whispered in Ethan's ear. Ethan stiffened at whatever was said. When Jonathan pulled back, Beckett heard him say, "If you don't tell them, I will."

"Detective Beckett, you don't… you don't understand. I can't tell you because it isn't right. It's not—"

"—Fuck it, Ethan." Jonathan growled. "Tell them everything. I don't care what happens."

Their little exchange puzzled Beckett even more.

Finally, Ethan—convinced by Jonathan—said, "You were right. About everything. I was there and I was with Mr. Shapiro the night he was… murdered."

"What were you doing there?"

"We were there to meet up with that guy. We were just standing there when he told me to run and hide. When I wouldn't, Mr. Shapiro grabbed me and that's how I got this." The bruise. "He forced me to leave him there, and I shouldn't have. I ran and I didn't look back. But I know that he killed Mr. Shapiro because he's dangerous. That's what I know. And I left him there and now he's dead."

Damon Clarke? Dangerous? A lowlife, maybe, but Beckett never regarded him as _dangerous. _Maybe that was her mistake—underestimating what he could possibly turn into. Still, something still wasn't right with Ethan's story. "If he's so dangerous, then why did you go and meet him?"

"Mr. Shapiro…" Ethan fidgeted, leaving his sentence hanging. Okay, so they were back to the clamped-up version of him again.

"They were there because of me."

Jonathan looked guilty enough when Beckett faced him. Her eyes narrowed and he went on. "My dad left us a year ago, and my mom—she's taking all the jobs she can get for me and my sisters. I found out earlier this year that she was waitressing at a strip club." He gulped. "That wasn't enough. She said she could get more money if she… but I told her she was out of her mind. I couldn't let her do that to herself, even if it was for us."

Beckett nodded, slowly and deliberately, able to see the pieces of their case coming together. She didn't feel so angry anymore. "That's how _you_ met Damon Clarke."

Ethan glanced at Jonathan with a persistent look, knowing that whatever his friend would say next would determine the course of the case—and his life.

"It seemed fine, at first. I'd deliver and I get paid by the hour. I gave my mom the money and lied about it, but it worked. She went for a decent job and I helped pay the bills."

"So you worked for Damon. For how long?" Beckett both admired and pitied Jonathan's choices. "A couple of months. And I-I didn't even know his name was Damon. I didn't know a thing about him. He'd call me from a random number and give me instructions."

"Jonathan, why didn't you ask for help?"

"And what, have people gossip about my mom even more? Stare at her after they find out that her husband left her for another man and that she worked at a strip club?" Jonathan replied strongly. "I was protecting my mom."

The class' stunned faces were not well hidden. This was the first they'd heard of this as well.

"I couldn't have people look down on my family. I couldn't ask for help because I didn't want anyone finding out we were broke." He said silently. "I was protecting myself too."

She looked at his youthful face and wondered what happened to that glow while he was in Damon's claws. His next words confirmed Beckett's worst thoughts. "I said to myself that I was doing this for my family and that is all. But he just—I hung out with him a lot and he'd have his friends over, then they'd do drugs." Jonathan shook his head. "It's hard not to get caught up in drugs when you're around it 24/7."

Ethan spoke up. "But he stopped when he felt like he was changing into another person. He got out."

Jonathan smiled warily, nodding. "I stopped, but he just kept coming back. He told me it wasn't as simple as entering and leaving. He was angry that I didn't stay."

"So Damon cornered you again? When was this?" Beckett asked. "A month ago, he showed up at home, at school. Everywhere."

"That's when Mr. Shapiro found out."

"Yeah, and I told him." Jonathan replied. "Mr. Shapiro said he was going to take care of it. That was I going to be free of him."

"That's why we couldn't tell you anything. If we said even one _single _thing, you would have traced everything back to Jonathan." Ethan said. "And none of it would have mattered anymore. You can't tell anyone else about Jonathan, because then, Mr. Shapiro would have died for nothing. We're sorry that we didn't tell you the truth before but we were only protecting each other. It's what Mr. Shapiro taught us, and that's what we had to do. And if you… please, don't tell anyone."

Beckett crossed her arms and forced her lips shut. This was her call. She just didn't know what call to make. She looked around at the faces that pleaded with her silently, but she firmly refused to be swayed. She had to think about it—she didn't have a lot of time, but she was going to make the most out of it. Whatever she decided, she wasn't going to regret it.

Pushing his puppy dog eyes aside, Beckett asked Ethan, "Did you see Damon Clarke that night?"

He hesitated. After awhile, he shook his head ruefully. "No. The close I ever came to was seeing a guy in a dark shirt coming as I was hiding. Mr. Shapiro didn't want me there."

"Okay. Damon is the drug dealer among drug dealers, and I don't know if you know that. How did you manage to contact him and have him agree to meet you?"

"I helped." Jonathan returned to the conversation. "I knew some people back in the day and I told them to spread word that someone heavy was coming. Some guy looking to order a dozen crates of Blue Flame."

"Mr. Shapiro said he'd never come to us willingly unless we were big shot customers. And he was right." Ethan added. "That dealer… Damon. He called us back and arranged a meet to confirm stuff. But I have no idea how he found out it was all a trick."

Beckett nodded, already, the wheels in her head oiled up and spinning faster than the usual. She had a preliminary plan on how to approach Damon. She looked back at them with a reassuring smile. "Listen. I want you all to go back home before your parents get involved with this. I will handle things from here and I will make sure that Damon Clarke gets what he deserves."

They all stood up, the break room filling up noisily. "Are you going to keep Jonathan's secret?" Ethan asked above the noise. Curious eyes stared back at her. She touched her arm to hide her discomfort, and she flashed them an easy smile. "I will do the right thing. Go home, guys."

Students filed out of the break room. Several officers and detectives who just arrived were bewildered at the number of youngsters in the area, and they quickly turned to other members of Homicide to fill them in on what happened.

Beckett turned around and found Esposito and Ryan standing close to her. She looked them urgently in the eyes before telling them what to do. "Talk to Damon Clarke. I don't care what you have to do but make sure that neither Ethan's nor Jonathan's name is to ever come from his mouth again."

"So we're keeping it low on Jonathan?"

"They're right. If we unearth everything, there'll be no point in Mr. Shapiro's death. He died protecting that boy, and that is honorable. He should be remembered for that—even if only his students know." Beckett replied. "We're going to give Jonathan the chance to start over, because that's what Louie Shapiro would have wanted."

Ryan and Esposito nodded. None of them objected to her decision and none of them looked like they wanted to. Ryan grinned. "It's going to fun scaring him to keeping his mouth shut."

"Oh yeah. We'll get the job done." Esposito agreed.

Beckett smiled. "Thanks. I'll talk to Captain Montgomery about it, so don't worry."

Esposito and Ryan left the room to subtly threaten Damon Clarke. Beckett stayed in the break room to fix up when she saw sneakers poking out from outside. She straightened up, wondering who it could be. She didn't have time to look at their shoes when they surged in, so she had no clue. "You wanna take a seat?" Beckett asked and called out.

She saw the shoes disappear for a short time before Jonathan appeared in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He entered wordlessly, sliding down on a chair. Jonathan beat Beckett to her first words. "I thought I would feel better. I really thought I would. I thought that by coming here and telling you the truth, I'd feel less responsible. But I waited for the heaviness to disappear, for the dread to pass… it didn't."

"By coming here, you closed the case. Maybe you should feel better."

"Did I?"

"Well, you've given us motive and opportunity. There are still some forensic strings that we have to knot, but the case is moving. That's what's important."

Jonathan nodded sadly. "I still think I killed him. If I had made different choices, things wouldn't have ended up like this. No one else should've been involved."

Beckett sighed, taking a seat, too. "You did what you had to in order to survive. There could have been a different path—a better path, that's true, but what you did is nothing to be ashamed of. Mr. Shapiro made his choices too, and I'm sure he doesn't regret them."

His hands dug into his hair as he pursed his lips. "No one would ever be able to top what he did for me. Not only did he give his _life_ for me, but he believed in me when I thought I was goner. He had faith that it wasn't over. He stayed right by me even when I pushed him away. People like him aren't given to us often. And that's all anyone could ever ask for, right? For someone who'd fight for us even if we feel like we don't deserve it. He showed me that I was worth fighting for. I wish I'd told him that. Because I know I'll never find anyone else who knows my mistakes and sticks around in the long run."

Her mouth was dry, and her cheeks were flaming. Jonathan just poured out his heart to her. She had to say something. "You'll find someone like him." Beckett said in a hopeful voice. "You'll find someone who'll show you what it's like to be loved."

Jonathan smiled. It was a simple smile, but Beckett hoped it was real. He nodded thankfully at her before standing up and leaving Beckett alone in the break room. Once she felt the coast was clear, she leaned her elbows on her knees and nestled her face in her hands. Beckett gasped into the warmth of her cupped hands as the emotions rocked her. It was hard not to feel like that wasn't a sign.

Beckett walked out in a daze, her feet knowing leading her to the elevator. Beckett's heart crashed into her chest. She could hear drums banging in her ears. She was fired up, really fired up. When the elevator doors opened and revealed the floor, she almost felt like flying at the rate she was following. Beckett pushed against the door, breathless, when she barged in. Lanie jumped a few inches from her table, looking surprised. "Okay, that's not cool, Kate. I could have thrown my scalpel at you had I smelled a threat."

"Oh, me? I'm not a threat." Beckett answered, taking pauses to gulp down air.

Lanie looked at her strangely. "I know. What's gotten into you?"

"I need you. I need you, Lanie."

"What do you need me for?"

"Just. I need you, come on."


	16. What it's like to be loved

**Author's Note: **Shortest chapter in the history of my chapters. Hahaha, I know. Am I teasing you? Hahaha. I hope not.

Anyways, you know what's going to happen in the next chapter, so keep updated! I hope to make your wait worthwhile. :)

R&R as always, please. :)

"Sweetie, are you sick?" Lanie chuckled, nearing her and touching her forehead.

"No, I'm fine. I meant, I need your phone. I need you because I need to borrow your phone."

Dr. Parish dug into her bag and gave up her phone without a fight. "Your phone died or something?" Beckett nodded and smiled wanly. "That's one way of putting it. Thanks."

"Is this about the case?" Lanie asked over Beckett's shoulder.

"Um, what? No," Beckett replied distractedly as she experimented with her friend's phone, trying to get the hang of the small screen. "Do you mind if I take this outside? I'll return in a few minutes, I promise."

Lanie laughed, casting a weird glance her way. "I don't mind. Sure, go ahead."

"Great." Beckett said quickly, finding her way out from the slabs, to the cold hallway. She exhaled, and a puff of smoke came before her eyes. Lanie must have a thick layer of clothing underneath those scrubs to withstand the temperature she was experiencing. Beckett's fingers coordinated themselves. She shivered again—maybe she was overreacting. She put the phone to her ear and breathed.

**x x x**

Castle crossed his bedroom to turn on the television, whistling a chummy tune. The dark violet towel was wrapped tightly around his hips, and water dripped from the tips of his hair. The blast of cold air from the air condition hit his bare chest. The beads of water evaporated quickly, and Castle patted himself down hurriedly with the towel. He reached for the clothes on his bed, and put them on.

Alexis had a date with her girlfriends, and Martha was… well, Castle was sure that wherever she was, she was behaving. Hopefully.

They hardly seemed to ever be home. But Castle just couldn't bring himself to the selfish thought of asking them to stay with him. He was a big boy; he was going to have to fix his own problems.

Castle did a 360 degree turn when his phone rang. He managed to forget where he last put it. Gratefully, whoever was calling didn't back down, and Castle found his phone under a pile of books on his coffee table. He looked at the caller ID, and saw that it was Lanie. It was when he realized he hadn't called her today. Maybe it got her worried.

"Dr. Lanie Parish," He smiled into the phone. "I was about to call. Had a long night last night—finally finished my manuscript. Can you believe that?" Castle laughed heartily. He waited for Lanie to join in—seriously, he was truly happy about getting the deed done. It took a lot from him to get started, and he couldn't believe his fortune that he was able to pull it off. Castle was still smiling when he prompted her. "Lanie?"

"_Castle." _

The voice was breathy and soft. So soft. There was an undertone in the voice that he recognized. He gripped the phone, the wires in his head snapping off.

"Kate? Kate, it's you." The gates of relief burst open and Castle was riding the wave. "Beckett, come on. Kate?"

"_I want to talk. Can we… can we do that?" _

It really was her. Castle sat on his bed, his heart filled with so much joy. His hand scrubbed over his mouth as he inhaled and exhaled.

"Beckett, I want to see you. Okay? Let's talk, but I want to see you."

He yearned for her. The entire time. Oh god, the mere thought of being with her again almost drove him to tears. There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to tell Beckett. He never believed he would have to go through losing her for him to gain the courage he needed. The woman he loved… all he wanted was to see her, hold her, love her.

"_Rick,"_

"Please. It's been close to months, Beckett. I can't—I can't do this anymore. I just want to see you."

**x x x**

The urgency in his voice when he said he wanted to see her felt so real to Beckett. Because it was. The bliss she felt when his voice came over the line stunned her to silence. And when he was finally speaking _to_ her, nothing could compare. She imagined his arms entwined around her and Beckett smiled. That's where she wanted to be.

There was a big question mark on what she was going to say or do when he's finally in front of her. Kiss him? Tell him 'I love you'? All these things would sum up her feelings, but she still didn't know. Maybe Beckett would simply know, once she was there.

The empty hallway sounded with two heavy footsteps. Beckett looked and saw Ryan and Esposito coming towards her. The dreamy smile was still on her face.

"Hey, we thought you'd be down here. We did it." Esposito grinned.

"Clarke confessed to everything. He found out what Mr. Shapiro was trying to do, so he killed him for it. Even where he hid the syringe that killed Mr. Shapiro." Ryan completed with a triumphant smile. "You can try him—ask him who Jonathan or Ethan is, and he looks so clueless it's believable."

Beckett beamed, nodding. She knew they deserved her congratulations but there was something bigger in her head right now that it wouldn't be fair to them. Besides, she always knew she worked with the best.

"I know what it's like." Beckett said excitedly, hardly containing herself.

"What's what like, Beckett?"

"He showed me, guys. He showed me. All this time." She dropped Lanie's phone into Esposito's hand.

Beckett walked around their confused faces as she steered for the elevator. She was smiling so hard—no faking it. "Um, Beckett? I don't—we don't really understand what you mean…" Ryan said, his voice sounding farther and farther away. She was a feet away from the elevator. "Who showed you what, Beckett?" Esposito added.

When she told Jonathan he'd find that someone who'd love him, she was speaking for herself too. She didn't realize sooner that she'd already found that man who loved her—and whom she loved back.

She faced them, her cheeks full of color, and she laughed.

"He showed me what it's like to be loved."


	17. You and I

**Author's Note: **Last chapter of this (your own description) story! Um, I hope I made you smile, laugh, cry and all sorts of stuff. Hahaha. To everyone that's read the story since I started it, thank you! Writing my first fanfic has been a BLASSSSSST! Much love to you all. x

* * *

><p>Every intersection that she had to stop at was unmistakably painful. It was as if things couldn't move fast enough.<p>

At last, she slowed down, seeing his figure leaning against a battered bench. Her heart picked up pace when she was closer, and she could clearly see his face. Castle looked up as her car came to a stop. Beckett cut off the engine abruptly, and he took two steps forward.

She stepped out of the vehicle, her hands taking shelter in the warmth of her pockets. It was cold outside. Really cold. She wished she'd thought to bring her gloves. Beckett's legs were shaking but she knew firsthand it wasn't from the weather. She could feel his brooding blue eyes roaming her face, though the courage to look him in the eyes was not with her yet. Beckett uncertainly drew closer to him, and Castle attempted to meet her halfway, but both of them stopped at an awkward distance.

Beckett heard Castle take a breath and for some reason, she looked up. Their eyes locked for a few moments, then Beckett found herself staring at his flushed cheeks. They were a deep pink color. She moved down to his lips, which were slightly quivering.

Beckett tore her gaze away, giving herself time to glance at the scenery dotted with specks of the first signs of snowfall.

"How long have you been waiting?"

It was a loaded question. Both of them knew that. It didn't help that neither one knew how to answer such a seemingly simple question.

"Longer than I would've wanted." Castle replied, his tone honest. Then again, there was much more to what he meant.

Beckett nodded slowly. "That… that explains it. You look cold."

"It's alright. I'm just glad you came."

He hadn't given her a single smile since they laid eyes. It was starting to worry Beckett.

She folded and unfolded her arms, busying herself with running her hand through her hair amongst other things. When it dawned on her that they hadn't said a word in five minutes, Beckett firmly put down her hands to her sides. Beckett looked up at him, hiding her surprise when she saw that he was already looking at her.

"I was never going to see you again." Beckett blurted out.

Castle looked back at her curiously—the first time he looked to be his old self again. "What made you change your mind?" He asked evenly.

There was blockage in Beckett's throat and she struggled to keep her voice steady.

"I need my partner. I—I miss him, and I want him back."

She caught him smiling. And he didn't stop. His smile grew wider and bigger, until it relaxed into _that_ smile.

The smile he saved for her.

"He misses you more, Beckett."

An unfamiliar feeling aroused in Beckett but at the same time, the all too familiar emotion of anger sparked. "But I don't deserve that."

Castle leaned forward to catch her words. When he was able to, the smile remained in place but there was an addition of confusion to it.

"You shouldn't miss me more. You shouldn't miss me at all. You shouldn't be smiling at me." Beckett continued, her eyes flashing. "God, Castle."

"Are you telling me what to feel now?" Castle asked in disbelief. "What is it that you want me to say or do?"

Beckett shook her head. "You're not hearing me, Castle."

"Beckett, I don't _understand_ what you want. Please, tell me. Because I don't know what else to do." The smile disappeared completely, and a cross look took its place. His eyebrows met and his mouth twisted in frustration. "Why do I feel like you're always trying to push me away?"

She dropped her mouth to declare a reply, and all that came out was air. Beckett mashed her lips together. "You think I don't want you in my life?"

"A month ago, yeah, it crossed my mind." He replied bitingly. "Remember? You wouldn't even answer my calls."

"That was a month ago. And that was my mistake." Beckett said. "But now I'm here."

"Okay, then why are you doing this?" Castle practically yelled. "I'm trying, Beckett, but you're making everything so hard."

"I'm not." She felt tears well up in her eyes. "I'm just… I'm trying to show you what other things are possible for you if you don't choose this—if you don't choose _me_."

"I choose _you_. I want _you_. I lo—" Castle cut off hastily. Beckett's heart paused at the broken word and she found his eyes again. A sharp pang hit her, looking at the intense hurt that filled them. "I backed off so you would get to this point. I would have waited longer if I had to. I would have done anything, Beckett. _Anything_."

Beckett choked on her words. "I don't deserve you."

He stared at her hopelessly before taking a gigantic step closer. Their bodies were less than an inch apart. Castle's chest heaved up and down quickly. Beckett kept her head down, but she knew how near they were. She was mad at herself for hurting him again, but Castle had to know how she felt. No matter how much she loved him, Beckett couldn't help but think that maybe he needed to see the bigger picture. It pained her to think that this conversation could be the reason he walked away, but it left her with no choice.

"That's the truth. I blamed you because you were easy to. I made you feel like crap when you didn't deserve to feel that way. I bitched about how my problems are the center of the universe and that you had to tiptoe around my feelings so I wouldn't fall into a black hole. I acted like I'm the victim here." Beckett said, every word heavily highlighted. "And yet you face me today and say these wonderful things and I can't—"

Castle took her by the shoulders, inching her forward, eliminating what little space they had between. Beckett didn't jerk at his touch. She felt his hot breath hitting her face, but she refused to raise her eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I hated you for what happened? Or if I tell you that you deserve to feel how you feel right now?

Beckett couldn't bear to look at him. Her body was limp; defeated. The only thing steadying her was Castle.

Their lack of words that still equalled to perfect understanding was baffling to others, but completely natural to them. And it never failed. Castle took her silence as a no—he was right. His hands rubbed her shoulders and in a gentle voice, he said, "No. You won't be happy. _I_ won't be happy. Let's… let's not go there, Kate, because we both know what we really want."

He lifted her face with his finger gently, sweeping the lock of hair behind her ear as he did. Beckett had no option but to look at him, feeling the rush of emotions as she witnessed the tenderness triumphantly gleaming in his blue eyes. She tried to search for that buried anger or masked contempt that she still thought he was harbouring.

Castle smiled lightly, and his hands grazed her waist as they came down. "I won't lie; the scariest thing that ever happened to me was when my mother came out of the room wearing her best interpretation of Lady Gaga." He laughed, and so did Beckett.

Beckett tentatively chose to let her negative feelings go. She had decided not long ago to close herself off from relationships—thinking that some things can be unforgivable. Maybe there's some truth in that. But in her case, it was herself she couldn't forgive. And it was high time she started to.

Castle tipped his face to her. "But not knowing whether or not I was going to see you again was pretty scary, too."

Beckett's eyes darted to his lips, then quickly returned to his gaze. "I'm sorry, Castle. I'm really sorry for everything that's happened. I was wrong."

"Do you wish you'd done things differently?"

"Definitely."

"Me too."

"You didn't do anything."

"Exactly. It's what I didn't do that's eating me up." He replied seriously. "If given the chance, I would go back and do one thing: punch Josh in the face."

The laugh came out of nowhere. It came out as a surprise. Beckett stifled her laughter with her hand. She turned and saw that Castle was grinning. "We could still do that, you know." Beckett suggested and a smile settled.

They had come apart as the previous moment was lost. Castle, still, grinning, edged closer, and said, "I'd probably get assault charges while they'll simply justify your actions. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?" He said. "Then I'd go to prison for years."

"I'd get you out, remember?"

They smiled at each other as the two fondly recalled that brief moment.

"So, what did I miss?" Castle asked naturally, but there was a soulful look on his face.

"Cases. But I've got piles on my desk, don't worry. I'm sure you're aching to share your profound theories with me, Castle."

"Oh, I missed out on a lot more than that." He replied. "Do you know how hard it is to find a muse these days?"

Beckett grinned. "I didn't know I was off the job."

"No, not like that. You know, while we were… apart, I attempted to go into a wild search for a woman—"

"—or a man."

"—who would at least have some, if not all, qualities of the extraordinary KB."

It was hard not to blush whenever Castle opened his mouth. So Beckett took the wheel and made it her game. "Did you? Find someone?"

Castle shook his head. "Nope." Then he shrugged playfully. "Not even close."

How he sneaked his arms around her body was a complete enigma to Beckett. Their bodies pushed against each other, their chests rose and fell as one. Despite the 18 degree temperature, Beckett felt hot, and the smouldering look Castle was giving her didn't help one bit. If she tiptoed, she would meet his lips. And that would be, so far, the only right thing she did. "There is nothing as good as Kate Beckett. Or as beautiful. Or as smart. Badass. Charming. Sassy. Sexy." He murmured. "Yeah, sexy fits you well."

Beckett laughingly threw her arms around him for a hug and he received her warmly, pressing his face against her hair. Beckett rested her chin on his shoulder contently, a smile spreading on her face. Castle lifted her off the ground for a few seconds to get her off her tiptoes. When she came back down, her face was flushed with excitement.

Castle saw it and smiled. His arms were securely circled around her waist. The way he looked down on her made Beckett's heart flutter and she realized she had the modern-day fairytale people dreamt to have

"Rick, there's something I should have said to you a long time ago." Her heart quickened. "I-I… I lov—"

Castle, sensing her nervousness, stepped in. He gathered her again in his arms, bringing his lips to her forehead. "I know, Kate. I know." His kisses trailed to the side of her eyes and to her cheeks before he looked deeply into her. "You're nervous—I am too. Look, you're shaking."

"You and your attention to detail." She grumbled jokingly, the color coming back to fill her face. "It feels like high school, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't know. I mean, I've always been the charmer. Don't know what it's like to be on the other end." Castle said, sarcasm and boast in his voice.

"Snake charmer, you mean?"

"Ah, Detective Beckett, I almost forgot how your jokes are intended for my agony."

"Please." Beckett swatted his shoulder lightly. "That was a good one, admit it."

Castle lowered his face again and his voice dropped to a husky level. "I will admit that I feel the same way about you. That is all there is to it."

"Spoken like a true poet."

Castle kissed her forehead again, but longer this time, and more longingly. Beckett's hands found a comfortable place on his shoulders as she closed her eyes in bliss. She had no idea why people needed anything else to get high when they could find someone like Castle. Beckett was on cloud nine, and she loved it.

Closed the case, got Castle back… it was a damn good day.

"I still have to lose the belly flab." Castle said and smiled. "Why don't we postpone our jog to today? I'll see you later?"

Beckett nodded affirmatively. "Sounds like a plan to me." She put her hand on Castle's back, like he did, and they walked to her car. The cold had gotten to them.

"Remind me to get maintenance to bring your chair back from storage." Beckett told Castle.

"What? You had my chair taken away?"

"Sorry. It didn't help me with no one sitting there."

"Well, you won't have to worry about that."

"Indeed, I won't."

Castle beat her to the car door. "No, no, I'm driving. I will be the perfect gentleman this afternoon." He ushered her to the passenger side, opening the door for her.  
>"I am opening doors, Beckett. This is no act of any sort."<p>

Beckett thought it was adorable, and she placed a kiss on his inflamed cheek before getting inside. She watched as Castle almost slipped and flattened himself to the street while he was hurrying to the other side. She giggled when he finally joined her in the car. She loved everything about him. Anyone's argument is invalid, nullified and or void.

Sitting in the car, with Castle beside her was the best feeling in the world. She didn't want that to change—simply didn't want to.

Beckett was glad she let her walls down. Even it was enough only for Castle to climb over. It was the beginning of something new, but it didn't have to be scary for her. She had Castle by her side.

No regrets. Just love.


End file.
